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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


The   World's   Greatest 
Short  Stories 


The   "World's   Best"    Series 
EDITED    Br 

SHERWIN    CODY 


A  Selection  from  the  World's 
Greatest  Short  Stories. 

A  Selection    from   the    Best 
English  Essays. 

The    Best    Poems   and    Essays 
OF  Edgar  Allan  Poe. 

The  Best  Tales  of  Edgar 
Allan  Poe. 

A  Selection  from  the  World's 
Great  Orations. 

A  Selection  from  the  Great 
English  Poets. 

Each,  I  vol.,  $i.oo  7iet. 


A  SELECTION  from  t/)e 
WORLD'S  GREATEST 
SHORT   STORI ES 

ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  HISTORY 
OF    SHORT    STORY    WRITING 

fVITH   CRITICAL  AND    HISTORICAL   COMMENTS 

By     SHERWIN      CODY 

EDITOR  OF  "A  SELECTION  FROM  THE  BEST 
ENGLISH  ESSAYS,"  AND  AUTHOR  OF  "THE  ART  OF 
WRITING     V    SPEAKING    THE    ENGLISH     LANGUAGE" 

ELEVENTH    EDITION 


CHICJGO      .      A.    C.    McCLURG 
y     COMPANY        •        MCMXIII 


Copyright 
By  a.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 

A.D.    1902 


Published  April,  1902 
Second  edition,  August  i,  1903 
Third  edition.  May  i,  1904 
Fourth  edition,  October  i,  1905 
Fifth  edition,  October  20,  igo6 
Sixth  edition,  November  15,  1908 
Seventh  edition,  November  13,  1909 
Kighth  edition,  April  30,  1910 
Ninth  edition,  May  13,  191 1 
Tenth  edition,  February  28,  1912 
Eleventh  edition,  September  23,  1913 


UNIVERSITY   PRKSS    ■     JOHN  WILSON 
AND  tON      •      CAMBRIDGE,   U.  S.  A. 


p/V 


If 


Contents 


Page 
Preface 1 1 

Introduction \^ 

I.     Patient    Griselda,  from    the    "  Decameron,'' 
of  Boccaccio.     Rewritten  in  En^ish  by  the 
Editor  .^^^^^^r^^^  r^.^^^.:;|  '<^   .       27 
//.     Aladdin,    or    the    Wonderful   Lamp,  from 

'■'The  Arabian  Niphts'"  .--x^^ :■''•:■"- ^^^  .     .       43 

III.     Rip   Vati   Winkle,  by   Washifigton  Irving     .     105 
K   ^  ■  IV.     A    Passion    in    the    Desert,    by    Honor e    de 
\^  Balzac.     Translated  from  the    French    by 

Y  the  Editor 133 

V.     A     Child^s    Dream    of  a   Star,   by    Charles 

-i.  Dickens      .     .     .     ^ /55 

'^  VI.     A  Chris fmas^  Carol,   by  Charles  Dickens     .     .     165 
77J }  A    Princess's    Tragedy,  from    "  Barry    Lyn- 
don,"  by   W.  M.    Thackeray 209 

^    VIII.    .The  Gold-Bug,  by  Edgar  Allan  Poe    .     .     .     lyj 
IX.     The   Great  Stone  Face,  by   Nathajtiel  Haw- 
thorne     289 


i^rzsz'z 


lo  Contents 

Pagt 
X.     The  N^ecklace,  and   The   String,  by   Guy  de 
Maupassant.      Translated  from  the  French 

by  the  Editor 319 

XI.     The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King,  by  Rudyard 

Kipling 345 

XII.     H01U    Gavin   Birse   Put   It  to  Mag  Lownie, 
from  "^    Window  in   Thrums,^''   by  f.  M. 

Barrie 395 

XIII      On  the  Stairs,  from  "  Tales  of  Mean  Streets," 

by  Arthur  Morrison 407 


PREFACE 

THE  stories  contained  in  this  volume  have 
been  selected  with  the  specific  view  of 
illustrating  the  history  of  the  art  of  short 
story  writing,  and  of  affording  suitable  examples 
for  the  study  of  the  constructive  side  of  the  art. 
No  person  can  read  any  short  story  critically  and 
intelligently  without  an  elementary  knowledge  of 
both  these  subjects.  It  has  been  said  that  an 
appreciative  reader  recreates  an  artistic  story 
or  poem,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  the  artist. 
Obviously  this  cannot  be  done  without  an  ele- 
mentary knowledge  of  the  art  on  its  constructive 
side.  Many  schools  and  colleges,  as  well  as  nu- 
merous contributors  to  the  magazines,  now  under- 
take to  give  some  outline  of  this  subject,  and  it  is 
believed  that  a  book  like  the  present  volume  will 
prove  useful  alike  to  the  student  at  home  and  the 
student  in  organized  classes ;  and  the  editor  trusts 
that  the  general  reader  will  not  find  the  volume 
wholly  lacking  in  entertainment. 

When  the  editor  of  this  volume  six  or  seven 
years  ago  put  forth  (anonymously)  the  first  sys- 
tematic treatise  on  the  art  of  story  writing  ("  The 
Art  of  Short  Story  \Vriting,"i  New  York  ;    "  How 

1  Reprinted    in    "  The    Ait    of    Writing    and    Speaking    the    English 
Language." 


12  Preface 

to  Write  Fiction,"  London),  the  critics  were  about 
equally  divided  between  brief  commendation  of 
the  volume  and  lengthy  condemnation  of  the 
idea  of  analyzing  and  teaching  the  art  of  fiction 
at  all.  But  a  great  change  has  been  wrought  since 
then.  The  University  of  Chicago  established  a 
course  in  short  story  writing.  Numerous  maga- 
zine writers  offered  themselves  as  expounders  of 
the  art ;  and  the  confessions  of  successful  novelists 
and  short  story  writers  were  freely  recorded.  The 
author  of  the  volume  above  referred  to  soon  real- 
ized what  small  scope  there  was  for  a  volume  pro- 
fessedly written  to  instruct  the  professional  writer, 
but  how  large  and  important  was  the  work  of  assist- 
ing the  general  reader  to  a  more  intelligent  reading 
of  fiction.  Only  by  raising  the  critical  standard 
of  the  great  body  of  readers  can  the  standard  for 
writers  of  fiction  be  raised.  So  almost  from  the 
start  this  volume  has  been  working  itself  out. 

The  first  definite  list  of  the  world's  masterpieces 
of  short  story  writing  which  came  in  the  editor's 
way  was  one  suggested  during  an  hour's  chat  with 
Mr.  VV.  E.  Henley,  in  1895.  Among  the  young 
writers  in  London  at  that  time,  Mr.  Henley  (for  a 
number  of  years  editor  of  the  National  Observer^ 
was  considered  the  best  judge  of  a  really  good 
short  story,  and  the  best  critic.  Kipling,  Barrie, 
Gilbert  Parker,  Arthur  Morrison,  H.  D.  Lowry, 
Kenneth  Grahame,  and  many  others  were  proud 
to  acknowledge  him  as  their  teacher  and  master, 
in   some   cases   their   discoverer.      Mr.    Henley's 


Preface  1 3 

opinions  have  been  supplemented  by  suggestions 
from  Arlo  Bates,  Edmund  Gosse,  Brander  Mat- 
thews, and  contributors  to  various  discussions  of 
the  short  story  which  have  occurred  in  the  pubHc 
prints. 

On  some  of  the  stories  all  competent  judges  will 
agree,  on  a  few  a  majority  will  agree,  and  on  thg 
remainder  hardly  any  critic  will  agree  with  any 
other  critic  as  to  relative  rank.  For  the  purposes 
of  this  volume  the  editor  feels  that  he  is  in  duty 
bound  to  follow  his  own  best  judgment,  not  ex- 
pecting or  even  hoping  that  every  one  will  agree 
with  him  in  his  omissions  and  inclusions,  but 
trusting  that  as  a  whole  the  volume  will  not  be 
deemed  altogether  unworthy. 

All  will  probably  agree  in  placing  "  Patient 
Griselda,"  "  Aladdin's  Lamp,"  "  Rip  Van  Winkle," 
"  A  Passion  in  the  Desert,"  and  "  The  Gold 
Bug "  among  the  world's  masterpieces.  From 
Dickens  Mr.  Henley  would  have  selected  "  Bar- 
box  Brothers"  in  "  Mugby  Junction;"  but  the 
editor  has  chosen  "A  Christmas  Carol"  (using  the 
shorter  versiofi  arranged  by  Dickens  himself  for 
his  American  readings)  because  it  is  so  indisput- 
ably great  in  its  good  humor  and  its  appeal  to 
the  heart,  though  otherwise  full  of  faults,  and 
"  A  Child's  Dream  of  a  Star"  because  it  so  well 
represents  the  element  of  pathetic  sentiment,  in 
which  Dickens  particularly  excelled,  and  because 
the  story  is  very  short  and  at  the  same  time  popu- 
lar.    Very  short  stories  were  not  common  in  the 


14  Preface 

old  da\-s,  tliough  to-day  they  are  so  universal.  "  A 
Princess's  Tragcd}%"  which  forms  a  chapter  in 
"  Barry  Lyndon,"  was  suggested  by  Mr.  Henley, 
and  is  here  presented  as  unquestionably  one  of  the 
finest  short  stories  Thackeray  ever  wrote.  "  Barry 
Lyndon  "  as  a  novel  has  never  been  popular,  and,  so 
/ar  as  the  editor  is  aware,  the  storj'-  of  "  The  Prin- 
cess's Tragedy  "  has  not  before  been  set  forth  for 
what  it  is  really  worth.  Seldom  do  we  find  such 
an  example  of  the  power  of  restraint  in  a  simple 
narrative  of  intensely  tragic  character.  Some 
critics  select  "  The  Birthmark "  as  Hawthorne's 
masterpiece,  but  the  popular  verdict  has  fixed 
unalterably  upon  "The  Great  Stone  Face,"  and 
the  editor  profoundly  agrees  with  the  choice.  The 
best  stories  of  Maupassant  ("  Boule  de  Suif  "  and 
"  La  Maison  Tellier  ")  are  not  suitable  for  English 
publication  ;  but  nearly  all  the  critics  agree  that 
"  La  Ficelle  "  ("  The  String")  is  a  genuine  master- 
piece. "  The  Necklace  "  has  been  included  because 
it  illustrates  in  so  simple  and  obvious  a  manner 
the  various  elements  in  an  artistic  story,  and  thus 
forms  a  suitable  paradigm  for  the  study  of  con- 
structive fiction.  "  The  Man  Who  Would  Be 
King"  is  the  universal  choice  of  the  younger 
friends  of  Mr.  Kipling  in  London,  though  "With- 
out Benefit  of  Clergy"  and  "  Drums  of  the  Fore 
and  Aft"  contend  with  it  in  popularity.  Most 
critics  grant  the  superior  art  of  "  A  Window  in 
Thrums,"  and  the  chapter  selected  is  a  short  story 
enchanting  in  its    humor.       "  On    the  Stairs,"   by 


Preface  15 

Arthur  Morrison,  is  not  a  great  story,  but  it  illus- 
trates admirably  the  clever  technic  of  the  younger 
writers. 

It  will  be  observed  that  but  three  selections  have 
been  made  from  current  or  comparatively  recent 
writers.  The  editor  regrets  that  he  cannot  include 
Stevenson's  "  A  Lodging  for  the  Night"  or  "  Will 
o'  the  Mill,"  Miss  Mary  E.  Wilkins's  "  The  Scent 
of  Roses  "  or  "  The  Revolt  of  Mother,"  Edward 
Everett  Hale's  "  The  Man  Without  a  Country," 
Bret  Harte's  "  The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp,"  and 
one  or  more  selections  from  Thomas  Hardy's 
"  Life's  Little  Ironies."  Stockton's  "  The  Lady 
or  the  Tiger?"  is  an  admirable  example  of  an 
interesting  type,  but  scarcely  a  great  story.  Of 
stories  by  foreign  writers,  apologies  for  omission 
are  due  above  all  to  Turgenieff,  who  may  be 
spoken  of  as  a  "  current  "  writer,  in  the  sense  that 
excellent  translations  are  only  lately  making  him 
known  to  English  readers.  His  short  stories  excel 
those  even  of  Tolstoi. 

"  The  Great  Stone  Face,"  by  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne, is  used  by  special  arrangement  with  and 
permission  of  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin,  &  Co., 
the  authorized  publishers  of  Hawthorne's  works. 
Similar  acknowledgments  are  due  to  Messrs.  G.  P. 
Putnam's  Sons  for  Irving's  "  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  to 
Messrs.  Little,  Brown,  &  Co.  for  Arthur  Morrison's 
"  On  the  Stairs,"  and  to  Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers, 
the  first  publishers  of  a  translation  of  the  stories  by 
Maupassant  used  in  this  book. 


INTRODUCTION 

UNTIL  the  advent  of  Mr.  Kipling  the  pub 
lication  of  volumes  of  short  stories  was 
never  considered  profitable  by  English 
publishers.  In  France  the  beginning  of  the  new 
era  of  the  short  story  dates  much  farther  back,  and 
from  the  time  of  Beaudelaire's  translations  of  Poe's 
stories,  short  story  writing  has  ranked  as  an  inde- 
pendent art.  Although  we  may  fairly  say  that 
modern  fiction  began  with  the  short  stories  of  the 
Decameron  and  the  Arabian  Nights,  short  story 
writing  as  a  special  art  made  no  progress  until  Poe 
and  Hawthorne.  All  the  novelists  occasionally 
wrote  short  stories,  and  the  rising  tide  of  modern 
fiction  bore  the  short  story  steadily  along  with  it; 
but  as  even  to-day  there  is  no  definite  art  of  novel- 
writing,  so  until  a  half  century  ago  the  writers  of 
short  stories  were  quite  unconscious  of  any  special 
art  of  short  story  writing.  In  recent  years,  how- 
ever, the  art  of  the  short  story  has  developed  into 
something  very  definite  indeed.  It  has  come  to  be 
a  matter  of  conscious  art  almost  as  much  as  poetry, 
or  the  drama,  or  sculpture.  Laws  have  been  dis- 
covered which  the  short  story  writer  must  obey. 
In  novel-writing  this  is  not  the  case  as  yet.     No 


iS  Introduction 

one  can  say  that  a  genius  may  not  arise  who  will 
violate  all  the  assumed  laws  of  novel-construction, 
and  yet  produce  a  story  as  successful  as  any  that 
has  ever  been  published.  Of  the  fixed  arts,  such 
as  sculpture,  painting,  and  music,  we  can  make  no 
such  statement  as  that;  and  now  it  would  be  un- 
true of  short  stor)'^  writing. 

In  works  of  art  there  are  always  two  things  to 
be  distinguished,  — the  subject-matter,  and  the  form 
into  which  that  matter  is  wrought  by  the  hand  of 
the  artist.  The  artistic  work  of  a  genius  is  rated 
great,  as  the  general  public  counts  greatness,  ac- 
cording to  the  depth  and  variety  of  the  knowledge 
of  human  nature  displayed.  Knowledge  of  human 
nature  is  the  gold  which  is  to  be  worked  into  a 
form  of  beauty,  it  is  the  diamond  which  is  to  be 
cut  and  polished.  Art  is  that  which  forms  the  gold 
into  a  thing  of  use  and  beauty ;  it  is  that  which 
reveals  the  natural  beauty  of  the  diamond  to  the 
ordinary  observer.  A  good  form,  a  true  art,  dis- 
plays the  precious  object  to  the  best  advantage. 
Art  alone —  that  is,  skill  in  displaying  knowledge 
of  human  nature  to  advantage  —  is  of  no  value 
unless  there  is  knowledge  to  be  displayed.  But  a 
little  set  forth  with  skill  is  of  more  practical  utility 
than  a  great  deal  presented  badly,  or  without  art; 
we  may  even  imagine  that  a  lack  of  art  might  de- 
bar the  greatest  genius  the  world  has  ever  seen  (so 
far  as  real  knowledge  of  human  nature  is  con- 
cerned) from  making  the  least  impression  o,n  his 
fellow  men.     So  after  all,  art  —  or  skill  in  shaping 


Introduction  19 

and  presenting —  is  as  absolutely  essential  as  orig- 
inal knowledge  of  human  nature.  Those  two  are 
the  essential  principles  of  human  progress,  without 
whose  marriage  there  can  be  no  children  of  the 
imagination;  indeed  no  growth  of  the  human  soul 
in  the  things  of  beauty,  in  the  joys  and  sorrows  of 
the  emotions  of  the  mind,  in  that  whole  section  of 
human  existence  which  we  have  marked  out  and 
roughly  named  "  the  realm  of  art." 

The  absolute  equality  and  complete  interdepend- 
ence of  these  two  great  forces  in  the  movements 
of  the  world's  thought,  popularly  referred  to  as  art 
and  genius,  have  been  but  imperfectly  recognized 
by  the  majority  of  critics.  We  have  the  staunch 
defenders  of  genius,  who  say  that  "  the  poet  is 
born,  not  made,"  —  which  is  perfectly  true  if  re- 
garded simply  as  a  way  of  emphasizing  one  side 
of  the  question,  —  and  we  have  the  devotees  of 
Art,  who  invariably  write  the  word  in  capitals,  and 
seem  to  believe  that  there  is  nothing  else  in  life. 
The  fact  is,  both  genius  and  art  are  utterly  barren 
unless  united,  and  the  greatness  to  which  they  give 
birth  is  usually  measured  by  the  harmony  and 
completeness  of  their  union. 

Though  in  a  perfect  work  of  art  subject-matter 
and  form  are  so  perfectly  blended  that  we  think  of 
neither  separately,  yet  for  critical  purposes  it  is 
well  to  keep  them  rigidly  separated  ;  and  one  or 
two  preliminary  remarks  on  each  will  facilitate  our 
study. 

First,  the  world  grows  in  knowledge  of  human 


20  Introduction 

nature  and  the  philosophy  of  Hfe  as  steadily  as  in 
other  directions,  and  a  story  of  transcendent  in- 
terest to  one  age  becomes  the  merest  common- 
place to  the  next.  In  time  the  world  will  outgrow 
even  Shakespeare,  as  it  has  in  part  already  out- 
grown Virgil  and  Homer;  but  the  historical  stu- 
dent views  these  men  in  the  light  of  the  effect 
their  works  have  had  upon  the  world  in  its  prog- 
ress. It  is  impossible  to  measure  them  with 
perfect  accuracy  until  their  influence  is  largely  a 
matter  of  the  past.  The  fact  is,  we  cannot  under- 
stand genius  till  we  have  grown  up  to  it,  and  of 
course  then  it  has  ceased  to  become  the  light  and 
inspiration  that  it  once  was ;  and  the  brilliancy  of 
the  light  that  is  still  our  inspiration  we  are  not  in 
a  position  to  measure  critically.  We  must  re- 
member this  in  reading  the  present  volume.  Very 
likely  the  common  reader  will  find  the  stories  that 
are  known  to  be  the  greatest  a  little  tiresome,  be- 
cause these  stories  are  so  old  that  the  world  has 
outgrown  them  ;  and  he  will  like  best  some  of  the 
more  modern  stories  which  the  judicious  critic 
would  place  very  low.  The  editor  of  this  volume 
has  tried  to  make  it  of  value  both  to  the  historical 
student  and  to  the  common  reader;  and  this  effort 
has  fallen  in  naturally  with  the  logical  plan  of  the 
book. 

So  much  for  the  subject-matter :  let  us  now  turn 
to  the  art  side. 

There  are  tw^o  kinds  of  art,  conscious  and  un- 
conscious.     When   the    knights-errant    of  genius 


Introduction  21 

cry,  "The  poet  is  born,  not  made,"  they  by  no 
means  intend  to  imply  that  form  is  nothing:  they 
are  thinking,  "  Genius  invents  its  own  forms  un- 
consciously, which  are  far  superior  to  the  forms 
selected  by  the  conscious  artist  who  is  uninspired 
by  genius."  They  ignore  the  conscious  artist  who 
is  inspired  by  genius,  for  there  is  nothing  at  all  in- 
compatible between  conscious  art  and  genius.  The 
fact  is,  however,  that  the  history  of  nearly  every 
special  art  is  that  at  first  its  forms  are  unconscious, 
or,  let  us  say,  experimental ;  and  as  in  its  evolution 
it  draws  near  to  perfection  and  its  possibilities  are 
realized  to  the  full,  very  nearly  all  its  practitioners 
become  conscious  artists.  Moreover,  as  soon  as 
the  possibilities  of  an  art  are  realized  to  the  full, 
that  art  begins  to  decline,  and  new  arts  arise  to  take 
its  place.  So  it  happens  that  we  are  likely  to  find 
the  unconscious  artists  associated  with  the  rise  of 
an  art,  and  the  conscious  artists  associated  with 
its  decline ;  but  at  the  height  of  the  progress  we 
find  one  great  conscious  artist  who  overshadows  all 
others,  conscious  or  unconscious.  Such  an  artist 
in  dramatic  poetry  was  Shakespeare. 

Short  story  writing  is  but  a  branch  of  the  larger 
art  of  fiction  which  comprehends  the  novel,  and 
though  short  story  writing  has  become  a  conscious 
art,  we  find  no  supreme  artist  in  it  who  is  also  a 
supreme  genius.  Novel-writing  as  an  art  is  still  in 
the  unconscious  stage,  and  we  may  yet  have  our 
Shakespeare  of  fiction.  In  the  history  of  short 
story  writing  Maupassant  is  probably  the  supreme 


2  2  Introduction 

conscious  artist,  but  lie  is  a  genius  of  no  such 
calibre  as  Poo  or  Hawthorne.  Poc  probably 
comes  nearer  than  any  other  story-writer  to 
being  our  great  conscious  artist  and  genius  com- 
bined ;  but  Poe's  powers  as  a  story-writer  are  too 
limited  in  scope  to  entitle  him  to  any  position 
which  we  may  call  supreme.  Hawthorne  was  also 
a  conscious  artist  in  part,  and  his  field  of  success 
is  just  that  portion  of  the  great  field  which  Poe 
left  untouched.  Together  they  mark  the  begin- 
ning of  the  modern  conscious  and  fixed  art  of 
short  story  writing.  Hence  we  may  claim  this  art 
as  fairly  American ;  and  this  justly  encourages  us 
to  hope  that  the  future  perfect  form  of  the  novel 
will  spring  from  America. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  unconscious  artist  is  that 
he  perfects  some  one  phase  of  the  complete  art. 
A  collection  of  the  best  works  of  the  unconscious 
period  will  giv^e  us  in  striking  form  all  the  different 
elements  of  the  complete  artistic  story.  In  it  we 
find  pure  types  of  character-study,  of  lofty  atmo- 
sphere, of  moral  instruction,  of  plot.  For  this 
reason  a  collection  of  masterpieces  of  short  story 
writing,  such  as  the  present  volume,  affords  the 
best  possible  examples  for  study  of  the  construc- 
tive side  of  fiction,  as  well  as  the  historical  side. 
Observing  the  unconscious  steps  by  which  the 
world  learned  the  art  of  short  story  writing,  we 
may  not  unnaturally  conceive  that  these  are  the 
steps  by  which  the  individual  learns  the  conscious 
art.     What    the  editor    conceives    these    steps    to 


Introduction  23 

be,  alike  in  the  historical  progress  of  the  art  and 
in  the  evolution  of  the  individual  artist,  will  be 
indicated  in  the  introductions  to  the  successive 
stories. 

SHERWIN    CODY. 
Chicago, 

January,  1902. 


I 

PATIENT   GRISELDA 


THE 

WORLD'S  GREATEST 
SHORT    STORIES 

PATIENT    GRISELDA 


FROM 


THE   DECAMERON   OF  BOCfA(^CIO  ^y 

INTRODUCTORY 
THE    ORIGIN    OF    THE    MODERN    LOVE    STORY 

FOR  practical  purposes  the  history  of  the 
modern  short  story  begins  with  the  De- 
cameron (1348).  It  was  a  vohime  of  one 
hundred  tales,  which  Boccaccio  collected  from  the 
taverns  and  the  wayside  and  turned  into  the  most 
perfect  Italian  for  the  amusement  of  his  king  and 
queen.  He  was  ten  years  in  doing  it,  and  never 
cared  to  connect  his  name  with  the  work.  But  it 
is  the  Decameron  that  made  Boccaccio  famous. 

"  New  book  out  —  good  story  !  "  we  say  to  each 
other  nowadays  on  publication  of  a  popular  novel, 
and  the  one  who  has  n't  read  it  rushes  off  to  buy 
the  book  and  devour  it.  In  the  days  of  Boccaccio 
people  whispered  about  the  villages,  "Traveller  at 
the  inn  to-night ;   has  some  good  stories,  they  say." 


28  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Then  every  one  who  wished  to  be  amused  crowded 
into  the  main  room  of  the  tavern,  and  the  dis- 
tinguished traveller  became  the  popular  novelist. 
Boccaccio  did  not  ori<jinate  a  single  story  in  the 
Decameron.  He  merely  -retold  in  the  choicest 
Italian  the  stories  he  heard  at  the  inns  as  he 
journeyed   about. 

In  those  days  when  there  were  no  newspapers, 
few  theatres,  and  fewer  books,  life  must  have  been 
dull  indeed.  The  arrival  of  a  traveller  at  the  vil- 
lage inn  was  like  a  breath  of  fresh  air  admitted 
into  a  close  room.  Such  conditions  gave  zest  to 
travelling.  The  man  who  could  tell  a  story  was 
sure  of  an  eager  audience  wherever  he  went,  and 
if  he  liked  the  clatter  of  applause,  he  knew  there 
was  no  better  way  to  get  it  than  this.  So  the  pro- 
fessional traveller  became  the  professional' story- 
teller. He  got  up  his  stories  with  all  the  art  he 
could  muster,  and  would  go  a  long  distance  out  of 
his  way  to  hear  a  good  tale,  that  he  might  tell  it  after- 
wards himself.  In  this  way  certain  stories  became 
widely  popular,  and  they  came  to  be  told  with  great 
skill.  The  tellers  studied  their  audiences,  they 
learned  what  interested  their  hearers,  what  touched 
their  emotions,  and  so  became  adepts  in  the  art  of 
playing  on  the  feelings  of  their  fellows. 

No  form  of  literary  art  ever  had  so  democratic 
an  origin  as  fiction.  Just  fancy  what  the  literary 
critics  of  to-day,  even,  would  say  to  a  collection  of 
one  hundred  bar-room  yarns  !  And  when  poetry, 
history,  and  philosophy  were  the  only  recognized 


Patient  Griselda  29 

forms  of  literary  art,  how  much  more  contemptible 
would  these  gossiping  tales  appear  to  be ! 

The  Decameron  is  the  beginning  of  the  modern 
love-story.  For  the  first  time  woman  held  the 
place  of  chief  interest.  Most  of  the  stories  are 
so  grossly  immoral  and  vulgar  that  they  are  un- 
readable to-day;  but  that  only  illustrates  the  gen- 
eral advancement  in  public  taste  and  morals.  In 
Boccaccio's  time  any  of  his  stories  might  be  told 
in  a  lady's  drawing-room  with  perfect  propriety. 

By  long  odds  the  most  popular  of  Boccaccio's 
hundred  tales  is  that  of  Patient  Griselda,  and 
strangely  enough,  it  is  the  most  highly  moral 
story  of  them  all.  Chaucer  heard  it  from  the 
poet  Petrarch  and  used  it  in  his  Canterbury 
Tales.  Soon  after  its  publication  it  appeared  in 
France  in  thirty  different  forms. 

In  this  story  we  have  a  simple  tale,  of  a  purely 
narrative  character.  Prose  has  its  rhythm  as  well 
as  music  and  poetry,  and  in  "  Patient  Griselda"  we 
find  a  long,  gentle  undulation  (which  the  translator 
has  endeavored  to  imitate  in  the  English),  and  a 
total  absence  of  the  staccato-like  variations  of  the 
more  modern  short  story.  There  is  no  strained 
sentiment,  no  special  attempt  at  "  atmosphere," 
and  the  speeches  of  the  various  characters  vary 
in  style  in  no  respect  from  the  narrative  portions 
of  the  story.  The  whole,  however,  presents  an 
example  of  chaste  simplicity  which  has  never  been 
surpassed,  and  seldom  equalled.  Our  ideas  of 
women   have    so  far  advanced    that  we   have    no 


30  Greatest  Short  Stories 

patience  with  Griselda's  conduct,  and  on  that 
account  find  the  story  a  trifle  tiresome ;  but  any- 
modern  writer  who  would  revert  to  the  gentle  and 
unruffled  method  of  story-teUing  employed  by 
Boccaccio  would  be  astonished  at  the  power  he 
would  find,  in  such  a  style. 

[Rewritten  in  English  by  the  Editor] 

^  T    ONG  ago  there  was  a  certain  marquis  of  Saluzzo, 

■Lrf  Gualtieri  or  Walter  by  name,  who  seemed  to  have 
^  made  up  his  mind  to  remain  a  bachelor.  He  did  nothing 
but  hawk  and  hunt,  and  never  dreamed  of  encumbering 
himself  with  a  wife  and  children.  In  that  he  was  no 
doubt  very  wise  ;  but  his  subjects  did  not  view  the  matter 
in  the  same  light,  and  often  urged  him  to  marry,  that  he 
might  not  be  left  without  an  heir,  or  they  without  a  lord. 
They  said  they  stood  ready  to  provide  a  lady  from  such  a 
family  that  she  would  not  be  hkely  to  disappoint  their 
hopes,  nor  give  him  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  their 
choice. 

"Worthy  friends,"  he  replied,  "you  ask  me  to  do  a 
thing  I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  never  to  venture 
upon,  considering  how  difficult  it  is  to  find  the  kind  of 
person  one  would  wish  for  a  wife.     You  must  admit  there 

J       is  a  great  abundance  of  the  kind  one  would  not  wish  ;  and 
I  know  of  no  lot  more  miserable  than  to  be  tied  to  a 
;/'«    disagreeable  woman. 

"The  idea  of  judging  a  woman's  temper  by  her  family, 
or  in  that  way  choosing  a  wife  that  will  please  me,  strikes 
me  as  quite  a  ridiculous  fancy.  Apart  from  the  fact 
that  one  never  knows  who   their  fathers  are,  we  know 


Patient  Griselda  31 

very  well  how  few  daughters  resemble  either  father  or 
mother. 

"  For  all  that,  as  you  are  so  anxious  to  see  me  noosed, 
I  will  agree.  But  that  I  may  have  no  one  to  blame  but 
myself  should  it  turn  out  amiss,  I  will  choose  for  myself; 
but  I  swear,  let  me  marry  whom  I  will,  unless  you  show 
her  the  respect  due  to  my  wife,  you  shall  know,  to  your 
sorrow,  what  a  responsibility  you  assume  in  urging  me  to 
marry  against  my  inchnation." 

The  worthy  deputation  of  citizens  bowed  low  and  re- 
plied  that   they  were   satisfied,   provided  only  that   he  "^ 
would  make  the  trial. 

Now  the  marquis  had  already  taken  a  fancy  to  a  poor^      ' 
country  girl  who  lived  in  a  small  village  not  far  from  his       ^4^ 
palace.     Thinking  that  he  might  live  as  comfortably  with     .,/ 
her  as  with  any  one,  he  decided  to  look  no  farther,  but  f^ 
make  her  his  wife.     So  he  sent  for  her  father,  who  was     ' 
a  very  poor  man,  and  told  him  what  he  purposed  to  do.  >;'. 
Then  he  summoned  his  subjects  and  said  to  them  :  ^ 

"  Gentlemen,  it  was  and  is  your  desire  that  I  take  a  "^ 
wife.  I  do  it  rather  to  please  you  than  out  of  any  liking 
I  have  for  matrimony.  You  will  remember  that  you 
promised  to  be  satisfied  with  my  choice,  whoever  she 
might  be,  and  to  pay  her  due  respect.  I  am  now  ready 
to  fulfil  my  side  of  the  bargain,  and  I  expect  you  to  do 
likewise.  In  a  near-by  village  I  have  found  a  young 
woman  after  my  own  heart.  I  intend  to  marry  her  and 
bring  her  home  in  a  few  days.  See  that  you  honor 
my  nuptials  and  respect  her  as  your  sovereign  lady,  that 
I  may  be  as  well  satisfied  with  the  fulfilment  of  your 
promise  as  you  have  reason  to  be  with  that  of  mine." 

The  people  declared  themselves  well  pleased,  and  re- 
newed their  promise  to  accept  her  as  their  mistress,  who- 
ever she  might  be.     So  everything  was  made  ready  for  a 


32  Greatest  Short  Stories 

noble  feast,  and  the  prince  invited  all  his  relations  and 
the  great  lords  from  all  the  surrounding  provinces.  He 
also  had  a  number  of  rich  dresses  made  on  a  model  that 
seemed  to  be  about  the  size  of  his  intended  spouse,  and 
provided  a  girdle,  a  ring,  and  a  fine  coronet,  with  every- 
thing requisite  for  a  bride. 

When  the  appointed  day  arrived,  about  the  third  hour  he 
mounted  his  horse,  attended  by  all  his  friends  and  vassals. 

"  My  lords  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  we  will  now  go 
for  my  new  spouse." 

So  they  rode  into  the  next  village,  and  when  they  came 
near  the  father's  house,  the  marquis  saw  his  bride  carry- 
ing water  in  great  haste,  that  she  might  be  ready  to  go 
with  some  of  her  friends  to  see  the  new  marchioness. 

He  called  her  by  her  name  Griselda,  and  asked  where 
her  father  was.     She  replied  modestly  : 

"  My  gracious  lord,  he  is  in  the  house." 

So  the  marquis  alighted,  and  commanding  them  all 
to  wait,  went  alone  into  the  cottage,  where  he  found 
Giannucolo,  Griselda's  father. 

"  My  good  man,"  said  he,  "I  am  come  to  marry  thy 
daughter ;  but  I  should  like  first  to  ask  her  a  few  ques- 
tions before  thee."  ^  He  then  asked  if  she  would  try,  to 
the  best  of  her  ability,  to  please  him  and  not  be  uneasy 
at  any  time,  whatever  he  might  say  or  do  :  and  more  to 
the  same  effect.     To  all  she  answered  "  Yes." 

He  then  led  her  out  by  the  hand  and  made  her 
strip  before  them  all,  and  ordering  up  the  rich  dresses 
he  had  provided,  clothed  her  completely  and  set  the 
coronet  upon  her  disordered  hair,  to  the  amazement  of 
all. 

"Behold,"  said  he,  "the  person   I   have   chosen  for 

^  This  form  was  used  with  inferiors.  The  forms  "  you  "  and 
"yours"  were  employed  toward  superiors. 


Patient  Griselda  33 

my  wife,  provided  she  will  accept  me  for  her  husband." 
Then  turning  toward  the  abashed  girl  he  asked : 

"  Will  you  have  me  for  your  husband?  " 

She  replied,  "Yes,  if  it  so  please  your  lordship." 

"  Well  said  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  take  you  for  my 
wife." 

In  this  public  manner  he  married  her,  and  mounting 
her  on  a  palfrey  led  the  way  back  to  the  palace.  The 
wedding  was  celebrated  with  as  much  pomp  and  grandeur 
as  if  he  had  taken  to  wife  the  daughter  of  the  King  of 
France  ;  and  apparently  the  young  bride  had  exchanged 
both  her  mind  and  her  behavior  with  her  garments.  She 
was  good-looking  and  amiable,  and  had  the  bearing 
rather  of  a  lord's  daughter  than  a  poor  shepherd's,  a  fact 
that  astonished  every  one  who  had  previously  known  her. 
As  for  her  husband,  he  found  her  so  obedient  and  obliging 
in  every  way  that  he  thought  himself  the  happiest  man  in 
the  world.  To  her  subjects,  likewise,  she  was  so  gracious 
and  considerate  that  they  all  honored  her  and  loved  her, 
praying  for  her  health  and  happiness,  and  declaring  that 
after  all  Gualtieri  was  a  shrewder  fellow  than  they  had 
given  him  credit  for  being.  Who  else  would  have  dis- 
covered so  many  virtues  under  so  mean  a  dress  ? 

Before  they  had  been  married  long  she  proved  to  be 
with  child,  and  she  gave  birth  to  a  daughter,  for  which  he 
made  great  rejoicings. 

But  now  the  marquis  developed  a  new  fancy.  He 
made  up  his  mind  to  make  trial  of  his  wife's  patience  by 
long  and  intolerable  sufferings.  He  spoke  harshly  to  her, 
and  affected  to  be  weary  of  her.  He  told  her  his  sub- 
jects murmured  at  her  mean  parentage,  and  at  the  idep 
of  her  being  the  mother  of  his  daughter. 

She  listened  to  these  unkind  words  without  a  change  of 
countenance,  and  quietly  replied: 

3 


34  Greatest  Sliort  Stories 

"  My  lord,  pray  dispose  of  me  as  you  think  most  proper 
for  your  honor  and  happiness.  I  know  that  I  am  meaner 
tlian  the  meanest  of  your  people,  and  that  I  was  quite 
unworthy  of  the  dignity  to  which  your  favor  was  pleased 
to  raise  me.  " 

This  pleased  the  marquis.  But  shortly  afterwards  his 
servant  appeared  before  Griselda  and  said  : 

"  Madam,  I  must  either  lose  my  life  or  obey  my  lord's 
commands.  Now  he  has  ordered  me  to  take  your  daugh- 
ter and "     He  said  no  more,  but  hung  his  head  and 

acted  in  such  a  distraught  way  that  she  supposed  he  had 
orders  to  destroy  the  child.  She  lifted  it  tenderly  from 
the  cradle  and  kissed  it  again  and  again,  gave  it  her  bless- 
ing, and,  though  her  heart  was  ready  to  burst  with  a 
mother's  love,  she  laid  it  in  the  servant's  arms. 

"Take  it,"  said  she,  "and  do  with  it  what  thy  lord 
and  mine  has  commanded  ;  but  please,  please,  leave  it 
not  to  be  devoured  by  fowls  or  wild  beasts,  unless  that 
be  his  will." 

The  result  of  this  experiment  was  a  great  surprise  to 
the  marquis ;  but  he  sent  the  child  to  Bologna  to  be 
educated  in  secret. 

Soon  Griselda  was  with  child  again,  and  brought  a  son 
into  the  world.  Not  long  after  its  birth  the  marquis  de- 
termined upon  a  further  trial  of  his  wife's  patience.  So 
he  said  to  her  : 

"  Since  thou  hast  brought  me  this  son,  I  can  no  longer 
live  with  my  people  ;  for  they  are  so  indignant  that  a 
poor  shepherd's  grandson  is  to  succeed  and  be  their  lord 
after  me,  that  I  must  dispose  of  this  child  as  I  did  of  the 
other,  or  run  the  risk  of  being  driven  out  of  my  domin- 
ions. Then  I  must  send  thee  away  and  take  a  wife  more 
suitable  to  my  position." 

"  My  lord,"  said  she,  with  resignation,  "  study  your  own 


Patient  Griselda  35 

ease  and  happiness  without  the  least  regard  for  me  ;  for 
nothing  will  bring  me  happiness  but  that  which  is  pleasing 
to  yourself." 

Accordingly  the  son  was  sent  to  Bologna,  though  under 
such  circumstances  as  to  give  the  impression  that  he  had 
been  destroyed. 

The  marquis  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  results  of  his 
experiment,  and  declared  to  himself  that  there  was  not 
another  woman  in  the  world  equal  to  his  wife.  He  had 
often  observed  her  great  fondness  for  her  children,  so  he 
knew  that  it  was  no  want  of  affection  that  led  her  to  part 
with  them  so  readily. 

The  people,  being  as  much  deceived  as  Griselda  herself, 
and  supposing  the  children  had  been  put  to  death,  blamed 
the  marquis  to  the  last  degree,  and  began  to  think  him  the 
most  cruel  and  monstrous  of  men.  They  likewise  showed 
their  compassion  for  the  lady.  But  when  they  went  to 
condole  with  her  for  the  loss  of  her  children,  she  said : 

"  It  was  not  my  will,  but  his  who  begot  them." 

Several  years  went  by,  and  the  marquis  determined  to 
make  a  last  trial  of  the  patience  of  his  humble  wife.  He 
announced  to  his  people  that  he  had  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  he  had  acted  foolishly  and  like  a  young  man  in 
choosing  Griselda,  as  he  had  done,  and  that  he  meant  to 
petition  the  pope  for  a  dispensation  to  divorce  her  and 
marry  another  more  suitable  to  his  rank.  There  were 
many  who  blamed  him  bitterly  for  this  action  ;  but  he  gave 
them  no  heed. 

Griselda  heard  this  announcement,  and  prepared  herself 
to  go  back  and  tend  her  father's  cattle  while  some  other 
lady  occupied  the  place  of  honor  that  had  oeen  hers  for  so 
many  years.  She  grieved  in  secret  over  this  last  calamity, 
but  determined  to  bear  it  as  resolutely  as  she  had  borne 
the  loss  of  her  children. 


36  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Counterfeit  letters  of  dispensation  arrived,  as  if  from 
the  pope,  and  the  marquis  said  to  his  wife  : 

"Woman,  by  the  pope's  leave  I  may  dispose  of  thee 
and  take  another  wife.  As  my  ancestors  have  been  all 
sovereign  princes  of  this  country,  antl  thine  only  peasants, 
I  intend  to  keep  thee  no  longer,  but  to  send  thee  back 
to  thy  father's  cottage  with  the  same  portion  which  thou 
broughtest  me,  and  afterwards  to  make  choice  of  one  more 
suitable  in  quality  to  myself." 

Griselda  had  difficulty  in  restraining  her  tears,  but  she 
said  calmly  : 

"  My  lord,  I  was  always  sensible  that  my  servile  condi- 
tion would  in  no  way  accord  with  your  rank  and  descent. 
For  what  I  have  been,  I  own  myself  indebted  to  Provi- 
dence and  you.  I  consider  it  as  a  favor  lent  me.  You 
are  now  pleased  to  demand  it  back  ;  I  therefore  willingly 
restore  it.  Behold  the  ring  with  which  you  espoused  me  ; 
I  deliver  it  to  you.  You  bid  me  take  the  dowry  back  which 
I  brought  you.  You  will  have  no  need  for  a  teller  to  count 
it,  nor  I  for  a  purse  to  put  it  in,  much  less  a  sumpter  horse 
to  carry  it  away,  for  I  have  not  forgotten  that  you  took  me 
naked,  and  if  you  think  it  decent  to  expose  that  body  that 
has  borne  you  two  children,  I  am  content ;  but  I  would 
entreat  you,  as  a  recompense  for  my  virginity,  which 
I  brought  you  and  do  not  carry  away,  that  you  would 
be  pleased  to  leave  me  one  shift  over  and  above  my 
dowry." 

Though  ready  to  weep,  he  put  on  a  stern  countenance, 
and  said : 

"•  Thou  shalt  have  one  only,  then." 

All  the  people  begged  him  to  allow  her  at  least  one  old 
gown  to  keep  her  body  from  shame,  but  in  vain.  So  she 
left  the  palace  with  no  covering  but  her  shift,  and  returned 
weeping  to  her  father's  house,  to  the  great  grief  of  all. 


Patient  Griselda  37 

Poor  old  Giannucolo  had  not  thought  the  prince  would 
keep  her  long,  so  he  had  laid  her  old  garments  away  ready 
for  use  on  an  occasion  like  this.  As  for  Griselda,  she 
went  courageously  about  the  affairs  of  her  father's  house- 
hold. 

The  marquis  gave  out  that  he  was  going  to  marry  a 
daughter  of  the  Count  of  Panago.  When  the  time  of  the 
wedding  drew  near  he  sent  for  Griselda  and  said  to  her : 

"  I  have  no  woman  to  set  my  house  in  order.  As  thou 
art  familiar  with  all  the  details  of  my  establishment,  I  wish 
thee  to  make  what  provision  is  required,  invite  what  ladies 
thou  wilt,  and  when  the  marriage  is  ended,  get  thee  home 
to  thy  father's  again." 

"  My  lord,  I  am  ready  to  fulfil  your  commands,"  she 
answered  quietly. 

So  she  went  in  her  coarse  dress  to  the  palace,  and  with 
her  own  hands  swept  out  the  rooms  and  set  them  to 
rights  ;  she  cleaned  and  scrubbed  like  the  meanest  servant, 
and  directed  affairs  in  the  kitchen  till  all  was  in  readiness. 
She  also  invited  the  ladies  of  the  neighborhood  in  the 
name  of  the  marquis,  and  on  the  day  named,  meanly  clad 
as  she  was,  she  received  them  in  the  most  genteel  and 
cheerful  manner  imaginable. 

In  the  meantime  the  children  had  been  living  at 
Bologna  with  a  kinswoman  of  the  marquis.  The  girl  was 
twelve,  an  extremely  pretty  creature,  and  the  boy  was  a 
bright  little  fellow  of  six.  The  marquis  now  sent  to  his 
kinswoman  to  bring  them  with  a  retinue  to  Saluzzo,  and  to 
give  it  out  all  along  the  way  that  she  was  bringing  the 
young  lady  to  be  married  to  him. 

They  reached  Saluzzo  about  dinner-time  after  several 
days'  travel.  The  news  of  their  coming  had  been  spread 
abroad,  and  they  found  the  whole  country  assembled  and 
waiting  to  see  the  new  marchioness. 


jS  Greatest  Short  Stories 

The  young  lady  was  graciously  received.  Griselda  went 
cheerfully  to  meet  her,  saying  : 

"  Your  ladysliip  is  most  welcome." 
The  ladies  of  the  neighborhood  had  begged  the  marquis 
that  Griselda  be  allowed  to  stay  in  a  room  by  herself,  or 
else  have  some  suitable  clothes  to  wear.  But  he  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  all  their  entreaties.  However,  when  the  young 
lady  appeared,  nearly  every  one  agreed  that  the  prince 
had  made  a  good  choice.  Griselda  in  particular  com- 
mended her  highly. 

"  What  thinkest  thou  of  my  bride?  "  asked  the  prince. 
"'  My  lord,  I  like  her  extremely  well,"  she  answered. 
*'  If  she  be  as  prudent  as  she  is  fair,  you  may  be  the 
happiest  man  in  the  world  with  her.  But  I  most  humbly 
beg  that  you  will  not  take  those  heart-breaking  measures 
with  this  lady  that  you  did  witli  your  former  wife,  because 
she  is  young,  and  has  been  tenderly  educated,  whereas  the 
other  was  inured  to  hardships  from  a  child." 

Gualtieri  rejoiced  exceedingly  in  this  last  evidence  of 
Griselda's  humility  and  sweetness  of  temper.  So  he  made 
her  sit  down  beside  him  and  said : 

"  Griselda,  it  is  now  time  for  you  to  reap  the  reward  of 
your  long  patience,  and  for  those  who  have  reputed  me 
cruel  and  unjust,  a  monster  by  nature,  to  know  that  what 
I  have  done  has  been  merely  to  show  them  how  a  wife 
ought  to  behave.  I  was  apprehensive  that  I  might  have 
endangered  my  ease  and  quiet  by  marrying ;  but  now  I 
know  they  are  secure  as  long  as  we  live  together.  I  had 
a  mind  to  prove  you  by  harsh  words  and  seemingly  harsh 
acts.  You  have  not  transgressed  my  will  in  any  particular, 
and  I  know  that  I  have  met  with  that  happiness  which  I 
desired.  All  shall  be  restored  to  you  in  one  hour  which 
was  taken  away  in  many,  and  with  it  such  sweet  rec- 


Patient  Griselda  39 

ompense  as  I  can  bestow.  Accept  this  young  lady  and 
her  brother  as  your  children  and  mine.  They  are  the 
same  that  you  and  many  others  thought  I  had  cruelly 
murdered. 

"  In  me  you  see  a  husband  who  loves  and  values  you 
above  all  things,  and  one  who  feels  that  no  person  in  the 
world  can  be  happier  in  a  wife  than  I  in  mine." 

He  thereupon  embraced  her  with  affection,  while  she 
wept  for  joy.  They  then  went  to  their  daughter,  who 
was  very  much  astonished,  and  tenderly  saluted  her  and 
her  brother. 

All  the  women  rose  from  the  table  overjoyed  at  the 
news  they  heard,  and  leading  Griselda  away  to  her  cham- 
ber, clothed  her  as  became  a  marchioness.  But  even  in 
her  rags  she  seemed  of  that  estate. 

Joy  and  satisfaction  reigned  on  every  side,  and  the 
feasting  went  on  for  many  days.  The  marquis  was 
judged  a  wise  man,  though  his  treatment  of  his  wife  had 
been  intolerable  ;  and  Griselda  was  admired  as  a  woman 
beyond  compare. 

In  a  few  days  the  Count  da  Panago  returned  home 
with  his  retinue.  The  marquis  took  Giannucolo  from  his 
drudgery  and  maintained  him  as  his  father-in-law.  So 
for  the  rest  of  his  life  the  old  peasant  lived  in  respect  and 
honor. 

In  view  of  an  instance  like  this,  must  we  not  admit  that 
divine  spirits  may  descend  from  heaven  into  the  meanest 
of  cottages  ;  while  royal  palaces  shall  give  birth  to  such  as 
seem  rather  adapted  to  the  care  of  animals  than  the  gov- 
ernment of  men?  Who  but  Griselda  could,  not  only 
without  a  tear,  but  even  with  seeming  satisfaction,  undergo 
the  most  unheard-of  trials  at  the  hands  of  her  husband? 
Many  women  there  are  who,  if  turned  out  of  doors  naked 


40  Greatest  Short  Stones 

as  Griselda  was,  would  have  found  means  to  procure  fine 
clothes  for  themselves,  adorning  at  once  their  own  persons 
and  their  husbands'  brows  (with  frowns). 

Note.  —  There  is  probably  not  one  woman  in  a  hundred  in 
modern  times  who,  if  she  were  treated  as  Griselda  was,  would  not 
invoke  the  courts.  Yet  there  are  some  who  will  bear  almost  any- 
thing for  the  sake  of  peace.  One  cannot  help  the  suspicion  that 
Criselda  was  deeper  than  she  seemed,  and  knowing  more  of  her 
husband's  nature  and  purposes  than  appears  in  the  story,  was  act- 
ing a  diplomatic  and  exceedingly  shrewd  part  in  refusing  to  be 
provoked.  Viewed  in  this  light,  she  is  a  striking  example  of  the 
power  of  modesty  and  non-resistance  to  give  dignity,  and  finally 
authority  and  power,  to  one  from  the  lowliest  social  rank.  Yet 
even  if  we  take  this  view,  there  is  nothing  in  the  story  that  would 
for  a  moment  lead  us  to  question  Griselda's  simplicity  and  ingen- 
uousness of  nature.  If  she  was  as  wise  as  a  serpent,  she  was  as 
pure  and  generous-minded  as  a  child.  —  Editor. 


.<^ 


A'    '^t. 


A 


II  ]U 

ALADDIN,   OR   THE  WONDERFUL 
LAMP 


ALADDIN, 
OR    THE    WONDERFUL    LAMP 


''THE   ARABIAN  NIGHTS'    ENTER- 
TAINMENTS" 

INTRODUCTORY 
THE   ORIGIN   OF   THE   MODERN    ROMANCE 

AS  the  modern  love  story  had  its  beginning 
in  the  Decameron,  so  the  modern  ro- 
mance had  its  beginning  in  the  Arabian 
Nights.  Strangely  enough,  the  stories  of  the 
Arabian  Nights  were  collected  in  almost  the 
same  way  and  at  the  same  time  as  the  stories  of 
the  Decameron.  But  while  the  love  stories  were 
Italian,  the  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments  were 
Oriental.  The  Arabs  are  a  nation  of  free-booters 
and  merchants.  Both  are  travellers,  and  we  have 
already  seen  how  easily  the  distinguished  travel- 
ler in  the  old  days  merged  into  the  distinguished 
story-teller.  The  wonderful  tales  of  the  genii  were 
invented  to  give  excitement  to  an  evening  at  the 


44  Greatest  Short  Stories 

tavern.  Most  of  them  are  at  the  same  time  tales 
of  travel,  and  in  their  very  setting  we  see  the  signs 
of  their  bar-room  origin. 

So  low  was  the  origin  of  modern  fiction  that  the 
matchless  tales  of  the  Arabian  Nights  are  even  to 
this  day  looked  on  with  contempt  by  the  Oriental 
critic  and  philosopher.  But  in  them  we  see  the 
dreams  of  the  common  people,  and  we  realize 
what  an  important  part  dreams  have  in  the  spir- 
itual economy  of  life.  We  must  hope;  we  must 
escape  from  the  drudgery  of  the  lot  in  which  we 
toil;  we  must  rest  our  hearts,  or  they  will  break! 
Romance  takes  us  out  of  ourselves  and  makes  us 
free  spirits  for  the  hour.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest 
blessings  of  life  ;  and  the  fact  that  the  mere  printed 
pages  of  a  book  can  do  this  to-day  shows  the  mar- 
vellous advancement  of  the  average  intelligence  in 
modern  times. 

There  is  a  popular  misconception  to  the  effect 
that  any  wild  fancy  may  constitute  a  "  fairy  story." 
The  truth  is,  however,  that  a  tale  of  this  kind  re- 
quires as  profound  a  knowledge  of  human  nature 
as  any  form  of  fiction.  Take  for  granted  the  ex- 
istence of  genii  and  fairies,  with  their  peculiar  and 
unnatural  powers,  and  we  can  go  no  farther  in  the 
way  of  license.  Everything  that  is  said  and  done 
must  be  as  strictly  logical,  as  well  worth  doing, 
and  as  instructive  and  dramatic  as  in  the  most 
realistic  fiction.  It  is  by  no  means  easy  to  as- 
sume   a    little    license    without     being    constantly 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp      45 

tempted  to  assume  more;  but  restraint  here  as 
elsewhere  is  the  invariable  sign  manual  of  the 
master. 

ALADDIN,  OR  THE  WONDERFUL  LAMP 

IN  one  of  the  large  and  rich  cities  of  China  there  once 
Hved  a  tailor  named  IMustapha.  He  was  very  poor. 
He  could  hardly,  by  his  daily  labor,  maintain  himself  and 
his  family,  which  consisted  only  of  his  wife  and  a  son. 

His  son,  who  was  called  Aladdin,'  was  a  very  careless 
and  idle  fellow.  He  was  disobedient  to  his  father  and 
mother,  and  would  go  out  early  in  the  morning  and  stay 
out  all  day,  playing  in  the  streets  and  public  places  with 
idle  children  of  his  own  age. 

When  he  was  old  enough  to  learn  a  trade,  his  father 
took  him  into  his  own  shop,  and  taught  him  how  to  use 
the  needle  ;  but  all  his  father's  endeavors  to  keep  him  to 
his  work  were  vain,  for  no  sooner  was  his  back  turned,  than 
the  boy  was  gone  for  that  day.  Mustapha  chastised  him, 
but  Aladdin  was  incorrigible,  and  his  father,  to  his  great 
grief,  was  forced  to  abandon  him  to  his  idleness  ;  and 
was  so  much  troubled  about  him,  that  he  fell  sick  and 
died  in  a  few  months. 

Aladdin,  who  was  now  no  longer  restrained  by  the  fear 
of  a  father,  gave  himself  entirely  over  to  his  idle  habits, 
and  was  never  out  of  the  streets  or  away  from  his  com- 
panions. This  course  he  followed  till  he  was  fifteen 
years  old,  without  giving  his  mind  to  any  useful  pursuit 
r  the  least  reflection  on  what  would  become  of  him. 
s  he  was  one  day  playing,  according  to  custom,  in  the 


SUr 


1  Aladdin    signifies  "The  Nobility  of  the  Religion."  —  LanC; 
vol.  ii.  p.  285. 


46  Greatest  Short  Stories 

street,  with  liis  evil  associates,  a  stranger  passing  by 
stopped  to  observe  him. 

This  stranger  was  a  sorcerer,  known  as  the  African 
magician,  as  he  had  been  but  two  days  arrived  from 
Africa,  his  native  country. 

The  African  magician,  observing  in  Aladdin's  counten- 
ance something  which  assured  him  that  he  was  a  fit  boy 
for  his  purpose,  inquired  his  name  and  history  of  some  of 
his  companions,  and  when  he  had  learnt  all  he  desired  to 
know,  went  up  to  him,  and  taking  him  asidfe  from  his 
comrades,  said.  '•  Child,  was  not  your  father  called 
Mustapha  the  tailor?"  "Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy, 
''  but  he  has  been  dead  a  long  time." 

At  these  words  the  African  magician  threw  his  arms 
about  Aladdin's  neck  and  kissed  him  several  times,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  said,  "  I  am  your  uncle.  Your 
worthy  father  was  my  own  brother.  I  knew  you  at  first 
sight,  you  are  so  like  him."  Then  he  gave  Aladdin  a 
handful  of  small  money,  saying,  "  Go,  my  son,  to  your 
mother,  give  my  love  to  her.  and  tell  her  that  I  will  visit 
her  to-morrow,  that  I  may  see  where  my  good  brother 
lived  so  long  and  ended  his  days." 

Aladdin  ran  to  his  mother,  overjoyed  at  the  money  his 
uncle  had  given  him.  "  Mother,"  said  he,  "  have  I  an 
uncle?" 

"  No,  child,"  replied  his  mother,  "  you  have  no  uncle 
by  your  father's  side  or  mine."  "  I  am  just  now  come," 
said  Aladdin,  "  from  a  man  who  says  he  is  my  uncle  and 
my  father's  brother.  He  cried  and  kissed  me  when  I  told 
him  my  father  was  dead,  and  he  gave  me  money,  send- 
ing his  love  to  you,  and  promising  to  come  and  pay  you 
a  visit,  that  he  may  see  the  house  my  father  lived  and 
died  in."  "Indeed,  child,"  rephed  the  mother,  "your 
father  had  no  brother,  nor  have  you  an  uncle." 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp      47 

The  next  day  the  magician  found  Aladdin  playing  in 
another  part  of  the  town,  and  embracing  him  as  before, 
put  two  pieces  of  gold  into  his  hand,  and  said  to  him, 
''  Carry  this,  child,  to  your  mother ;  tell  her  that  I  will 
come  and  see  her  to-night,  and  bid  her  get  us  something 
for  supper ;  but  first  show  me  the  house  where  you  live." 

Aladdin  showed  the  African  magician  the  house,  and 
carried  the  two  pieces  of  gold  to  his  mother,  who  went 
out  and  bought  provisions ;  and  considering  she  wanted 
various  utensils,  borrowed  them  of  her  neighbors.  She 
spent  the  whole  day  in  preparing  the  supper;  and  at 
night,  when  it  was  ready,  said  to  her  son,  "  Perhaps  the 
stranger  knows  not  how  to  find  our  house  ;  go  and  bring 
him,  if  you  meet  with  him." 

Aladdin  was  just  ready  to  go,  when  the  magician 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  came  in  loaded  with  wine  and 
all  sorts  of  fruits,  which  he  brought  for  a  dessert.  After 
he  had  given  what  he  brought  into  Aladdin's  hands,  he 
saluted  his  mother,  and  desired  her  to  show  him  the 
place  where  his  brother  Mustapha  used  to  sit  on  the  sofa  ; 
and  when  she  had  so  done,  he  fell  down,  and  kissed  it 
several  times,  crying  out,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  My 
poor  brother !  how  unhappy  am  I,  not  to  have  come 
soon  enough  to  give  you  one  last  embrace  !  "  Aladdin's 
mother  desired  him  to  sit  down  in  the  same  place,  but  he 
declined.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  not  do  that ;  but  give 
me  leave  to  sit  opposite  to  it,  that  although  I  see  not  the 
master  of  a  family  so  dear  to  me,  I  may  at  least  behold 
the  place  where  he  used  to  sit." 

When  the  magician  had  made  choice  of  a  place  and 
sat  down,  he  began  to  enter  into  discourse  with  Aladdin's 
mother.  "  My  good  sister,"  said  he,  "  do  not  be  sur- 
prised at  your  never  having  seen  me  all  the  time  you 
have  been  married  to   my  brother  Mustapha  of  happy 


48  Greatest  Short  Stories 

memory.  I  have  been  forty  years  absent  from  this 
country,  which  is  my  native  place,  as  well  as  my  late 
brother's ;  and  during  that  time  have  travelled  into  the 
Indies,  Persia,  Arabia,  Syria,  and  Kgypt,  and  afterward  I 
crossed  over  into  Africa,  where  1  took  up  my  abode.  At 
last,  as  it  is  natural  for  a  man,  I  had  a  desire  to  see  my 
native  country  again,  and  to  embrace  my  dear  brother  ;  and 
finding  1  had  strength  enough  to  undertake  so  long  a 
journey,  I  made  the  necessary  preparations  and  set  out. 
Nothing  ever  afflicted  me  so  much  as  hearing  of  my 
brother's  death.  But  God  be  praised  for  all  things  !  It 
is  a  comfort  for  me  to  find,  as  it  were,  my  brother  in  a 
son,  who  has  his  most  remarkable  features." 

The  African  magician  perceiving  that  the  widow  wept 
at  the  remembrance  of  her  husband,  changed  the  con- 
versation, and  turning  toward  her  son,  asked  him,  "  What 
business  do  you  follow?     Are  you  of  any  trade?" 

At  this  question  the  youth  hung  down  his  head,  and 
was  not  a  little  abashed  when  his  mother  answered, 
"  Aladdin  is  an  idle  fellow.  His  father,  when  alive, 
strove  all  he  could  to  teach  him  his  trade,  but  could  not 
succeed;  and  since  his  death,  notwithstanding  all  I  can 
say  to  him,  he  does  nothing  but  idle  away  his  time  in  the 
streets,  as  you  saw  him,  without  considering  he  is  no  longer 
a  child  ;  and  if  you  do  not  make  him  ashamed  of  it,  I 
despair  of  his  ever  coming  to  any  good.  For  my  part,  I 
am  resolved,  one  of  these  days,  to  turn  him  out  of  doors 
and  let  him  provide  for  himself." 

After  these  words,  Aladdin's  mother  burst  into  tears  ; 
and  the  magician  said,  "  This  is  not  well,  nephew ;  you 
must  think  of  helping  yourself,  and  getting  your  livelihood. 
There  are  many  sorts  of  trades  ;  perhaps  you  do  not  like 
your  father's,  and  would  prefer  another  ;  I  will  endeavor 
to  help  you.     If  you  have  no  mind  to  leajn  any  handi- 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp      49 

craft,  I  will  take  a  shop  for  you,  furnish  it  with  all  sorts  of 
fine  stuffs  and  linens  ;  and  then  with  the  money  you  make 
out  of  them  you  can  lay  in  fresh  goods,  and  live  in  an  honor- 
able way.  Tell  me  freely  what  you  think  of  my  proposal ; 
you  shall  always  find  me  ready  to  keep  my  word." 

This  plan  just  suited  Aladdin,  who  hated  work.  He 
told  the  magician  he  had  a  greater  inclination  to  that 
business  than  to  any  other,  and  that  he  should  be  much 
obliged  to  him  for  his  kindness.  "Well,  then,"  said  the 
African  magician,  '•'  I  will  take  you  with  me  to-morrow, 
clothe  you  as  handsomely  as  the  best  merchants  in  the 
city,  and  afterward  we  will  open  a  shop  as  I  have 
suggested." 

The  widow,  after  his  promise  of  kindness  to  her  son, 
no  longer  doubted  that  the  magician  was  her  husband's 
brother.  She  thanked  him  for  his  good  intentions ;  and 
after  having  exhorted  Aladdin  to  render  himself  worthy 
of  his  uncle's  favor,  served  up  supper,  at  which  they 
talked  of  several  indifferent  matters ;  and  then  the  magi- 
cian took  his  leave  and  retired. 

He  came  again  the  next  day,  as  he  had  promised,  and 
took  Aladdin  with  him  to  a  merchant,  who  sold  all  sorts 
of  clothes  for  different  ages  and  ranks,  ready  made,  and 
a  variety  of  fine  stuffs,  and  bade  Aladdin  choose  those  he 
preferred,  which  he  paid  for. 

When  Aladdin  found  himself  so  handsomely  equipped, 
he  returned  his  uncle  thanks,  who  thus  addressed  him  : 
"  As  you  are  soon  to  be  a  merchant,  it  is  proper  you 
should  frequent  these  shops,  and  be  acquainted  with 
them."  He  then  showed  him  the  largest  and  finest 
mosques,  carried  him  to  the  khans  or  inns  where  the 
merchants  and  travellers  lodged,  and  afterward  to  the 
sultan's  palace,  where  he  had  free  access  ;  and  at  last 
brought  him  to  his  own  khajn,  where,  meeting  with  some 

4 


50  Greatest  Short  Stories 

merchants  he  had  become  acquainted  with  since  his  ar- 
rival, he  gave  them  a  treat,  to  bring  them  and  his  pre- 
tended nephew  acquainted. 

This  entertainment  lasted  till  night,  when  Aladdin  would 
have  taken  leave  of  his  uncle  to  go  home  ;  the  magician 
would  not  let  him  go  by  himself,  but  conducted  him  to 
his  mother,  who,  as  soon  as  she  saw  him  so  well  dressed, 
was  transported  with  joy  and  bestowed  a  thousand  bless- 
ings upon  the  magician. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  magician  called  again  for 
Aladdin,  and  said  he  would  take  him  to  spend  that  day 
in  the  country,  and  on  the  next  he  would  purchase 
the  shop.  He  then  led  him  out  at  one  of  the  gates  of 
the  city,  to  some  magnificent  palaces,  to  each  of  which 
belonged  beautiful  gardens,  into  which  anybody  might 
enter.  At  every  building  he  came  to,  he  asked  Aladdin 
if  he  did  not  think  it  fine  ;  and  the  youth  was  ready  to 
answer  when  any  one  presented  itself,  crying  out,  '•  Here 
is  a  finer  house,  uncle,  than  any  we  have  yet  seen."  By 
this  artifice,  the  cunning  magician  led  Aladdin  some  way 
into  the  country ;  and  as  he  meant  to  carry  him  farther, 
to  execute  his  design,  he  took  an  opportunity  to  sit  down 
in  one  of  the  gardens,  on  the  brink  of  a  fountain  of  clear 
water,  which  discharged  itself  by  a  lion's  mouth  of  bronze 
into  a  basin,  pretending  to  be  tired.  "  Come,  nephew," 
said  he,  "  you  must  be  weary  as  well  as  I ;  let  us  rest 
ourselves,  and  we  shall  be  better  able  to  pursue  our  walk." 

The  magician  next  pulled  from  his  girdle  a  handker- 
chief with  cakes  and  fruit,  and  during  this  short  repast  he 
exhorted  his  nephew  to  leave  off  bad  company,  and  to 
seek  that  of  wise  and  prudent  men,  to  improve  by  their 
conversation  ;  "  for,"  said  he,  "  you  will  soon  be  at  man's 
estate,  and  you  cannot  too  early  begin  to  imitate  their 
example."     When  they  had  eaten  as  much  as  they  liked, 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp     51 

they  got  up,  and  pursued  their  walk  through  gardens 
separated  from  one  another  only  by  small  ditches,  which 
marked  out  the  limits  without  interrupting  the  communi- 
cation ;  so  great  was  the  confidence  the  inhabitants  re- 
posed in  each  other.  By  this  means  the  African  magician 
drew  Aladdin  insensibly  beyond  the  gardens,  and  crossed 
the  country,  till  they  nearly  reached  the  mountains. 

At  last  they  arrived  between  two  mountains  of  moderate 
height  and  equal  size,  divided  by  a  narrow  valley,  which 
was  the  place  where  the  magician  intended  to  execute 
the  design  that  had  brought  him  from  Africa  to  China. 
'  We  will  go  no  farther  now,"  said  he  to  Aladdin ;  ''  I 
will  show  you  here  some  extraordinary  things,  which, 
when  you  have  seen,  you  will  thank  me  for ;  but  while 
I  strike  a  light,  gather  up  all  the  loose  dry  sticks  you  can, 
see,  to  kindle  a  fire  with." 

Aladdin  found  so  many  dried  sticks,  that  he  soon  col- 
lected a  great  heap.  The  magician  presently  set  them 
on  fire;  and  when  they  were  in  a  blaze,  threw  in  some 
incense,  pronouncing  several  magical  words,  which  Alad- 
din did  not  understand. 

He  had  scarcely  done  so  when  the  earth  opened  just 
before  the  magician,  and  discovered  a  stone  with  a  brass 
ring  fixed  in  it.  Aladdin  was  so  frightened  that  he  would 
have  run  away,  but  the  magician  caught  hold  of  him,  and 
gave  him  such  a  box  on  the  ear  that  he  knocked  him  down. 
Aladdin  got  up  trembling,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  said 
to  the  magician,  "  What  have  I  done,  uncle,  to  be  treated 
in  this  severe  manner?"  "I  am  your  uncle,"  answered 
the  magician  ;  "  I  supply  the  place  of  your  father,  and 
you  ought  to  make  no  reply.  But,  child,"  added  he, 
softening,  "  do  not  be  afraid  ;  for  I  shall  not  ask  anything 
of  you,  but  that  you  obey  me  punctually,  if  you  would 
reap  the  advantages  which  I  intend  you.     Know,  then, 


52  Greatest  Short  Stories 

that  under  this  stone  there  is  hidden  a  treasure,  des- 
tined to  be  yours,  which  will  make  you  riclier  than  the 
greatest  monarch  in  the  world.  No  person  but  yourself 
is  permitted  to  lift  this  stone,  or  enter  the  cave  ;  so  you 
must  punctually  execute  what  I  may  command,  for  it  is 
a  matter  of  great  consequence  both  to  you  and  me." 

Aladdin,  amazed  at  all  he  saw  and  heard,  forgot  what 
was  past,  and  rising,  said,  "  Well,  uncle,  what  is  to  be 
done?  Command  me:  lam  ready  to  obey."  "I  am 
overjoyed,  child,"  said  the  African  magician,  embracing 
him.  "  Take  hold  of  the  ring  and  lift  up  that  stone." 
"Indeed,  uncle,"  replied  Aladdin,  "I  am  not  strong 
enough  ;  you  must  help  me."  "  You  have  no  occasion  for 
my  assistance,"  answered  the  magician  ;  "  if  I  help  you, 
we  shall  be  able  to  do  nothing.  Take  hold  of  the  ring, 
and  lift  it  up;  you  will  find  it  will  come  easily."  Aladdin 
did  as  the  magician  bade  him,  raised  the  stone  with  ease, 
and  laid  it  on  one  side. 

When  the  stone  was  pulled  up,  there  appeared  a  stair- 
case about  three  or  four  feet  deep,  leading  to  a  door. 
"  My  son,"  said  the  African  magician,  "  descend  those 
steps  and  open  that  door.  It  will  lead  you  into  a  palace, 
divided  into  three  great  halls.  In  each  of  these  you  will 
see  four  large  brass  cisterns  placed  on  each  side,  full  of 
gold  and  silver ;  but  take  care  you  do  not  meddle  with 
them.  Before  you  enter  the  first  hall,  be  sure  to  tuck  up 
your  robe,  wrap  it  about  you,  and  then  pass  through  the 
second  into  the  third  without  stopping.  Above  all  things, 
have  a  care  that  you  do  not  touch  the  walls  so  much  as 
with  your  clothes  ;  for  if  you  do,  you  will  die  instantly.  At 
the  end  of  the  third  hall,  you  will  find  a  door  which  opens 
into  a  garden  planted  with  fine  trees  loaded  with  fruit. 
Walk  directly  across  the  garden  to  a  terrace,  where  you 
will  see  a  niche  before  you,  and  in  that  niche  a  lighted 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp      53 

lamp.  Take  the  lamp  down  and  put  it  out.  When  you 
have  thrown  away  the  wick  and  poured  out  the  Hquor,  put 
it  in  your  waistband  and  bring  it  to  me.  Do  not  be 
afraid  that  the  Hquor  will  spoil  your  clothes,  for  it  is  not 
oil,  and  the  lamp  will  be  dry  as  soon  as  it  is  thrown  out." 

After  these  words  the  magician  drew  a  ring  off  his 
finger  and  put  it  on  one  of  Aladdin's,  saying,  "  It  is  a 
talisman  against  all  evil,  so  long  as  you  obey  me.  Go, 
therefore,  boldly,  and  we  shall  both  be  rich  all  our  lives." 

Aladdin  descended  the  steps,  and,  opening  the  door, 
found  the  three  halls  just  as  the  African  magician  had 
described.  He  went  through  them  with  all  the  precau- 
tion the  fear  of  death  could  inspire,  crossed  the  garden 
without  stopping,  took  down  the  lamp  from  the  niche, 
threw  out  the  wick  and  the  liquor,  and,  as  the  magi- 
cian had  desired,  put  it  in  his  waistband.  But  as  he  came 
down  from  the  terrace,  seeing  it  was  perfectly  dry,  he 
stopped  in  the  garden  to  observe  the  trees,  which  were 
loaded  with  extraordinary  fruit  of  dififerent  colors  on  each 
tree.  Some  bore  fruit  entirely  white,  and  some  clear  and 
transparent  as  crystal ;  some  pale  red,  and  others  deeper  ; 
some  green,  blue  and  purple,  and  others  yellow  ;  in  short, 
there  was  fruit  of  all  colors.  The  white  were  pearls ;  the 
clear  and  transparent,  diamonds;  the  deep  red, rubies  ;  the 
paler,  balas  rubies  ^  ;  the  green,  emeralds ;  the  blue,  tur- 
quoises ;  the  purple,  amethysts  :  and  the  yellow,  sapphires. 
Aladdin,  ignorant  of  their  value,  would  have  preferred 
figs,  or  grapes,  or  pomegranates ;  but  as  he  had  his 
uncle's  permission,  he  resolved  to  gather  some  of  every 
sort.  Having  filled  the  two  new  purses  his  uncle  had 
bought  for  him  with  his  clothes,  he  wrapped  some  up  in 
the  skirts  of  his  vest,  and  crammed  his  bosom  as  full  as  it 
could  hold. 

1  Balas  rubies  are  rubies  of  the  brightest  color. 


54  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Aladdin,  having  thus  loaded  himself  with  riches  of 
which  he  knew  not  the  value,  returned  through  the  three 
halls  with  the  utmost  precaution,  and  soon  arrived  at  the 
mouth  of  the  cave,  where  the  African  magician  awaited 
him  with  the  utmost  impatience.  As  soon  as  Aladdin 
saw  him,  he  cried  out,  '*  Pray,  uncle,  lend  me  your  hand, 
to  help  me  out."  "Give  me  the  lamp  first,"  replied  the 
magician ;  "  it  will  be  troublesome  to  you."  "  Indeed, 
uncle,"  answered  Aladdin,  "  1  cannot  now,  but  I  will  as 
soon  as  I  am  up."  The  African  magician  was  deter- 
mined that  he  would  have  the  lamp  before  he  would  help 
him  up  ;  and  Aladdin,  who  had  encumbered  himself  so 
much  with  his  fruit  that  he  could  not  well  get  at  it,  re- 
fused to  give  it  to  him  till  he  was  out  of  the  cave.  The 
African  magician,  provoked  at  this  obstinate  refusal,  flew 
into  a  passion,  threw  a  little  of  his  incense  into  the  fire, 
and  pronounced  two  magical  words,  when  the  stone  which 
had  closed  the  mouth  of  the  staircase  moved  into  its 
place,  with  the  earth  over  it  in  the  same  manner  as  it  lay 
at  the  arrival  of  the  magician  and  Aladdin. 

This  action  of  the  magician  plainly  revealed  to  Aladdin 
that  he  was  no  uncle  of  his,  but  one  who  designed  him 
evil.  The  truth  was  that  he  had  learnt  from  his  magic 
books  the  secret  and  the  value  of  this  wonderful  lamp, 
the  owner  of  which  would  be  made  richer  than  any  earthly 
ruler,  and  hence  his  journey  to  China.  His  art  had  also 
told  him  that  he  was  not  permitted  to  take  it  himself, 
but  must  receive  it  as  a  voluntary  gift  from  the  hands 
of  another  person.  Hence  he  employed  young  Alad- 
din, and  hoped  by  a  mixture  of  kindness  and  authority 
to  make  him  obedient  to  his  word  and  will.  When  he 
found  that  his  attempt  had  failed,  he  set  out  to  return  to 
Africa,  but  avoided  the  town,  lest  any  person  who  had 
seen  him  leave  in  company  with  Aladdin  should  make 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp  ^55 

inquiries  after  the  youth.  Aladdin  being  suddenly  envel- 
oped in  darkness,  cried,  and  called  out  to  his  uncle  to  tell 
him  he  was  ready  to  give  him  the  lamp  ;  but  in  vain, 
since  his  cries  could  not  be  heard.  He  descended  to  the 
bottom  of  the  steps,  with  a  design  to  get  into  the  palace, 
but  the  door,  which  was  opened  before  by  enchantment, 
was  now  shut  by  the  same  means.  He  then  redoubled 
his  cries  and  tears,  sat  down  on  the  steps  without  any 
hopes  of  ever  seeing  light  again,  and  in  an  expectation  of 
passing  from  the  present  darkness  to  a  speedy  death.  In 
this  great  emergency  he  said,  "  There  is  no  strength  or 
power  but  in  the  great  and  high  God  ; "  and  in  joining 
his  hands  to  pray  he  rubbed  the  ring  which  the  magician 
had  put  on  his  finger.  Immediately  a  genie  of  frightful 
aspect  appeared,  and  said,  "  What  wouldst  thou  have  ? 
I  am  ready  to  obey  thee.  I  serve  him  who  possesses  the 
ring  on  thy  finger  ;  I,  and  the  other  slaves  of  that  ring." 

At  another  time  Aladdin  would  have  been  frightened 
at  the  sight  of  so  extraordinary  a  figure,  but  the  danger  he 
was  in  made  him  answer  without  hesitation,  "  Whoever 
thou  art,  deliver  me  from  this  place."  He  had  no  sooner 
spoken  these  words,  than  he  found  himself  on  the  very 
spot  where  the  magician  had  last  left  him,  and  no  sign  of 
cave  or  opening,  nor  disturbance  of  the  earth.  Returning 
God  thanks  to  find  himself  once  more  in  the  world,  he 
made  the  best  of  his  way  home.  When  he  got  within  his 
mother's  door,  the  joy  at  seeing  her  and  his  weakness  for 
want  of  sustenance  made  him  so  faint  that  he  remained  for 
a  long  time  as  dead.  As  soon  as  he  recovered,  he  related 
to  his  mother  all  that  had  happened  to  him,  and  they  were 
both  very  vehement  in  their  complaints  of  the  cruel  magi- 
cian. Aladdin  slept  very  soundly  till  late  the  next  morning, 
when  the  first  thing  he  said  to  his  mother  was,  that  he 
wanted  something  to  eat,  and  wished  she  would  give  him 


56  Greatest  Short  Stories 

his  breakfast.  "  Alas  !  child,''  said  she,  I  have  not  a  bit 
of  bread  to  give  you  ;  you  ate  up  all  the  provisions  I  had 
in  tlie  house  yesterday  ;  but  I  have  a  liitle  cotton  which 
1  have  spun  ;  I  will  go  and  sell  it,  and  buy  bread  and 
something  for  our  dinner."  "Mother,"  replied  Aladdin, 
"  keep  your  cotton  for  another  time,  and  give  me  the 
lamp  I  brought  home  with  me  yesterday ;  I  will  go  and 
sell  it,  and  the  money  I  shall  get  for  it  will  serve  both  for 
breakfast  and  dinner,  and  perhaps  supper  too. " 

Aladdin's  mother  took  the  lamp  and  said  to  her  son, 
*'  Here  it  is,  but  it  is  very  dirty ;  if  it  were  a  little  cleaner 
I  believe  it  would  bring  something  more."  She  took 
some  fine  sand  and  water  to  clean  it ;  but  had  no  sooner 
begun  to  rub  it,  than  in  an  instant  a  hideous  genie  of 
gigantic  size  appeared  before  her,  and  said  to  her  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  "  What  wouldst  thou  have  ?  I  am 
ready  to  obey  thee  as  thy  slave,  and  the  slave  of  all  those 
who  have  that  lamp  in  their  hands  ;  I,  and  the  other  slaves 
of  the  lamp. " 

Aladdin's  mother,  terrified  at  the  sight  of  the  genie, 
fainted  ;  when  Aladdin,  who  had  seen  such  a  phantom  in 
the  cavern,  snatched  the  lamp  out  of  his  mother's  hand, 
and  said  to  the  genie  boldly,  '•  I  am  hungry,  bring  me 
something  to  eat."  The  genie  disappeared  immediately, 
and  in  an  instant  returned  with  a  large  silver  tray,  hold- 
ing twelve  covered  dishes  of  the  same  metal,  which  con- 
tained the  most  delicious  viands  ;  six  large  white  bread 
cakes  on  two  plates,  two  flagons  of  wine,  and  two  silver 
cups.  All  these  he  placed  upon  a  carpet  and  disap- 
peared ;  this  was  done  before  Aladdin's  mother  recovered 
from  her  swoon. 

Aladdin  had  fetched  some  water,  and  sprinkled  it  in 
her  face  to  recover  her.  Whether  that  or  the  smell  of  the 
meat  effected  her  cure,  it  was  not  long  before  she  came 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     57 

to  herself.  "  Mother,"  said  Aladdin,  "  be  not  afraid  ; 
get  up  and  eat ;  here  is  what  will  put  you  in  heart,  and 
at  the  same  time  satisfy  my  extreme  hunger." 

His  mother  was  much  surprised  to  see  the  great  tray, 
twelve  dishes,  six  loaves,  the  two  flagons  and  cups,  and 
to  smell  the  savory  odor  which  exhaled  from  the  dishes. 
"  Child,"  said  she,  "  to  whom  are  we  obliged  for  this  great 
plenty  and  liberality?  Has  the  sultan  been  made  ac- 
quainted witii  our  poverty,  and  had  compassion  on  us?" 
"  It  is  no  matter,  mother,"  said  Aladdin,  "  let  us  sit  down 
and  eat ;  for  you  have  almost  as  much  need  of  a  good 
breakfast  as  myself;  when  we  have  done,  I  will  tell  you." 
Accordingly,  both  mother  and  son  sat  down  and  ate  with 
the  better  relish  as  the  table  was  so  well  furnished.  But 
all  the  time  Aladdin's  mother  could  not  forbear  looking 
at  and  admiring  the  tray  and  dishes,  though  she  could 
not  judge  whether  they  were  silver  or  some  other  metal, 
and  the  novelty  more  than  the  value  attracted  her 
attention. 

The  mother  and  son  sat  at  breakfast  till  it  was  dinner- 
time, and  then  they  thought  it  would  be  best  to  put  the 
two  meals  together  ;  yet,  after  this  they  found  they  should 
have  enough  left  for  supper,  and  two  meals  for  the  next 
day. 

When  Aladdin's  mother  had  taken  away  and  set  by 
what  was  left,  she  went  and  sat  down  by.  her  son  on  the 
sofa,  saying,  "  I  expect  now  that  you  should  satisfy  my 
impatience,  and  tell  me  exactly  what  passed  between  the 
genie  and  you  while  I  was  in  a  swoon  ; "  which  he  readily 
complied  with. 

She  was  in  as  great  amazement  at  what  her  son 
told  her,  as  at  the  appearance  of  the  genie  ;  and  said  to 
him,  "But,  son,  what  have  we  to  do  with  genies?  I 
never  heard  that  any  of  my  acquaintance  had  ever  seen 


58  Greatest  Short  Stories 

one.  How  came  that  vile  genie  to  address  himself  to  me, 
and  not  to  you,  to  whom  he  had  appeared  before  in  the 
cave?"  "  Mother,"  answered  Aladdin,  "  the  genie  you 
saw  is  not  the  one  who  appeared  to  me.  If  you  remem- 
ber, he  that  I  first  saw  called  himself  the  slave  of  the  ring 
on  my  finger ;  and  this  you  saw  called  himself  the  slave 
of  the  lamp  you  had  in  your  hand  ;  but  I  believe  you  did 
not  hear  him,  for  I  think  you  fainted  as  soon  as  he  began 
to  speak." 

"  What !  "  cried  the  mother,  "  was  your  lamp  then  the 
occasion  of  that  cursed  genie's  addressing  himself  rather 
to  me  than  to  you  ?  Ah  !  my  son,  take  it  out  of  my  sight, 
and  put  it  where  you  please.  I  had  rather  you  would  sell 
it  than  run  the  hazard  of  being  frightened  to  death  again 
by  touching  it ;  and  if  you  would  take  my  advice,  you 
would  part  also  with  the  ring,  and  not  have  anything  to 
do  with  genies,  who,  as  our  prophet  has  told  us,  are  only 
devils." 

"  With  your  leave,  mother,"  replied  Aladdin,  "  I  shall 
now  take  care  how  I  sell  a  lamp  which  may  be  so 
serviceable  both  to  you  and  me.  That  false  and  wicked 
magician  would  not  have  undertaken  so  long  a  journey 
to  secure  this  wonderful  lamp  if  he  had  not  known 
its  value  to  exceed  that  of  gold  and  silver.  And  since 
we  have  honestly  come  by  it,  let  us  make  a  profitable  use 
of  it,  without  i)iaking  any  great  show,  and  exciting  the 
envy  and  jealousy  of  our  neighbors.  However,  since  the 
genies  frighten  you  so  much,  I  will  take  it  out  of  your 
sight,  and  put  it  where  I  may  find  it  when  I  want  it.  The 
ring  I  cannot  resolve  to  part  with  ;  for  without  that  you 
had  never  seen  me  again ;  and  though  I  am  alive  now, 
perhaps,  if  it  were  gone,  I  might  not  be  so  some  moments 
hence ;  therefore,  I  hope  you  will  give  me  leave  to  keep 
it,  and  to  wear  it  always  on  my  finger."     Aladdin's  mother 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp      59 

replied  that  he  might  do  what  he  pleased  ;  for  her  part, 
she  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  genies,  and  never  say 
anything  more  about  them. 

By  the  next  night  they  had  eaten  all  the  provisions  the 
genie  had  brought ;  and  the  next  day  Aladdin,  who  could 
not  bear  the  thoughts  of  hunger,  putting  one  of  the  silver 
dishes  under  his  vest  went  out  early  to  sell  it,  and  address- 
ing himself  to  a  Jew  whom  he  met  in  the  streets,  took 
him  aside,  and  puUing  out  the  plate,  asked  him  if  he 
would  buy  it.  The  cunning  Jew  took  the  dish,  examined 
it,  and  as  soon  as  he  found  that  it  was  good  silver,  asked 
Aladdin  at  how  much  he  valued  it.  Aladdin,  who  had 
never  been  used  to  such  trafific,  told  him  he  would  trust 
to  his  judgment  and  honor.  The  Jew  was  somewhat 
confounded  at  this  plain  dealing ;  and  doubting  whether 
Aladdin  understood  the  material  or  the  full  value  of  what 
he  offered  to  sell,  took  a  piece  of  gold  out  of  his  purse 
and  gave  it  him,  though  it  was  but  the  sixtieth  part  of 
the  worth  of  the  plate.  Aladdin,  taking  the  money  very 
eagerly,  retired  with  so  much  haste  that  the  Jew,  not 
content  with  the  exorbitancy  of  his  profit,  was  vexed  he 
had  not  penetrated  into  his  ignorance,  and  was  going  to 
run  after  him,  to  endeavor  to  get  some  change  out  of  the 
piece  of  gold  ;  but  Aladdin  ran  so  fast,  and  had  got  so  far, 
that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  overtake  him. 

Before  Aladdin  went  home,  he  called  at  a  baker's, 
bought  some  cakes  of  bread,  changed  his  money,  and  on 
his  return  gave  the  rest  to  his  mother,  who  went  and  pur- 
chased provisions  enough  to  last  them  some  time.  After 
this  manner  they  lived,  till  Aladdin  had  sold  the  twelve 
dishes  singly,  as  necessity  pressed,  to  the  Jew,  for  the 
same  money  ;  who,  after  the  first  time,  durst  not  offer  him 
less,  for  fear  of  losing  so  good  a  bargain.  When  he  had 
sold  the  last  dish,  he  had  recourse  to  the  tray,  which 


6o  Greatest  Short  Stories 

weighed  ten  times  as  much  as  the  dishes,  and  would  have 
carried  it  to  his  old  purchaser,  but  that  it  was  too  large 
and  cumbersome  ;  therefore  he  was  obliged  to  bring  him 
home  with  him  to  his  mother's,  where,  after  the  Jew  had 
examined  the  weight  of  the  tray,  he  laid  down  ten  pieces 
of  gold,  with  which  Aladdin  was  very  well  satisfied. 

When  all  the  money  was  spent,  Aladdin  had  recourse 
again  to  the  lamp.  He  took  it  in  his  hands,  looked  for 
the  part  where  his  mother  had  rubbed  it  with  the  sand, 
and  rubbed  it  also,  when  the  genie  immediately  appeared 
and  said,  "What  wouldst  thou  have?  I  am  ready  to 
obey  thee  as  thy  slave,  and  the  slave  of  all  those  who  have 
that  lamp  in  their  hands ;  I,  and  the  other  slaves  of  the 
lamp."  "  I  am  hungry,"  said  Aladdin,  "  bring  me 
something  to  eat."  The  genie  disappeared,  and  pres- 
ently returned  with  a  tray  and  the  same  number  of  covered 
dishes  as  before,  set  them  down,  and  vanished. 

As  soon  as  Aladdin  found  that  their  provisions  were 
again  expended,  he  took  one  of  the  dishes  and  went  to 
look  for  his  Jew  chapman ;  but  as  he  passed  by  a  gold- 
smith's shop,  the  goldsmith  perceiving  him,  called  to  him, 
and  said,  "  My  lad,  I  imagine  that  you  have  something  to 
sell  to  the  Jew,  whom  I  often  see  you  visit ;  but  perhaps 
you  do  not  know  that  he  is  the  greatest  rogue  even 
among  the  Jews.  I  will  give  you  the  full  worth  of  what 
you  have  to  sell,  or  I  will  direct  you  to  other  merchants 
who  will  not  cheat  you." 

This  offer  induced  Aladdin  to  pull  his  plate  from 
under  his  vest  and  show  it  to  the  goldsmith ;  who  at 
first  sight  saw  that  it  was  made  of  the  finest  silver,  and 
asked  him  if  he  had  sold  such  as  that  to  the  Jew ;  when 
Aladdin  told  him  that  he  had  sold  him  twelve  such,  for  a 
piece  of  gold  each.  "  What  a  villain  !  "  cried  the  gold' 
smith.     "  But,"  added  he,  "  my  son,  what  is  past  cannot 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp     6i 

be  recalled.  By  showing  you  the  value  of  this  plate, 
which  is  of  the  finest  silver  we  use  in  our  shops,  I 
will  let  you  see  how  much  the  Jew  has  cheated  you." 

The  goldsmith  took  a  pair  of  scales,  weighed  the  dish, 
and  assured  him  that  his  plate  would  fetch  by  weight 
sixty  pieces  of  gold,  which  he  offered  to  pay  down 
immediately. 

Aladdin  thanked  him  for  his  fair  dealing,  and  never 
after  went  to  any  other  person. 

Though  Aladdin  and  his  mother  had  an  inexhaustible 
treasure  in  their  lamp,  and  might  have  had  whatever 
they  wished  for,  yet  they  lived  with  the  same  frugality  as 
before,  and  it  may  easily  be  supposed  that  the  money 
for  which  Aladdin  had  sold  the  dishes  and  tray  was 
sufificient  to  maintain  them  some  time. 

During  this  interval,  Aladdin  frequented  the  shops  of 
the  principal  merchants,  where  they  sold  cloth  of  gold 
and  silver,  linens,  silk  stuffs,  and  jewelry,  and,  oftentimes 
joining  in  their  conversation,  acquired  a  knowledge  of 
the  world,  and  a  desire  to  improve  himself.  By  his 
acquaintance  among  the  jewellers,  he  came  to  know  that 
the  fruits  which  he  had  gathered  when  he  took  the  lamp 
were,  instead  of  colored  glass,  stones  of  inestimable 
value ;  but  he  had  the  prudence  not  to  mention  this  to 
any  one,  not  even  to  his  mother. 

One  day  as  Aladdin  was  walking  about  the  town,  he 
heard  an  order  proclaimed,  commanding  the  people  to 
shut  up  their  shops  and  houses,  and  keep  within  doors 
while  the  Princess  Buddir  al  Buddoor,  the  sultan's 
daughter,  went  to   the  bath  and  returned. 

This  proclamation  inspired  Aladdin  with  eager  desire 
to  see  the  princess's  face,  which  he  determined  to 
gratify  by  placing  himself  behind  the  door  of  the  bath, 
so  that  he  could  not  fail  to  see  her  face. 


62  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Aladdin  had  not  long  concealed  himself  before  the 
princess  came.  She  was  attended  by  a  great  crowd  of 
ladies,  slaves,  and  mutes,  who  walked  on  each  side  and 
behind  her.  When  she  came  within  three  or  four  paces 
of  the  door  of  the  bath,  she  took  off  her  veil,  and  gave 
Aladdin  an  opportunity  of  a  full  view  of  her  face. 

The  princess  was  a  noted  beauty ;  her  eyes  were  large, 
lively,  and  sparkling ;  her  smile  bewitching ;  her  nose 
faultless ;  her  mouth  small ;  her  lips  vermilion.  It  is  not 
therefore  surprising  that  Aladdin,  who  had  never  before 
seen  such  a  blaze  of  charms,  was  dazzled  and  en- 
chanted. 

After  the  princess  had  passed  by  and  entered  the 
bath,  Aladdin  quitted  his  hiding-place  and  went  home. 
His  mother  perceived  him  to  be  more  thoughtful  and 
melancholy  than  usual ;  and  asked  what  had  happened 
to  make  him  so,  or  if  he  was  ill.  He  then  told  his 
mother  all  his  adventure,  and  concluded  by  declaring, 
"  I  love  the  princess  more  than  I  can  express,  and  am 
resolved  that  I  will  ask  her  in  marriage  of  the  sultan." 

Aladdin's  mother  listened  with  surprise  to  what  her 
son  told  her ;  but  when  he  talked  of  asking  the  princess 
in  marriage,  she  laughed  aloud.  "Alas!  child,"  said 
she,  "  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  You  must  be  mad  to 
talk  thus." 

"  I  assure  you,  mother,"  replied  Aladdin,  "  that  I  am 
not  mad,  but  in  my  right  senses.  I  foresaw  that  you 
would  reproach  me  with  folly  and  extravagance ;  but  I 
must  tell  you  once  more,  that  I  am  resolved  to  demand 
the  princess  of  the  sultan  in  marriage  ;  nor  do  I  despair 
of  success.  I  have  the  slaves  of  the  lamp  and  of  the 
ring  to  help  me,  and  you  know  how  powerful  their  aid 
is.  And  I  have  another  secret  to  tell  you  :  those  pieces 
of  glass,  which  I  got  from  the  trees  in  the  garden  o\  the 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     63 

subterranean  palace,  are  jewels  of  inestimable  value,  and 
fit  for  the  greatest  monarchs.  All  the  precious  stones 
the  jewellers  have  in  Bagdad  are  not  to  be  compared  to 
mine  for  size  or  beauty ;  and  I  am  sure  that  the  offer  of 
them  will  secure  the  favor  of  the  sultan.  You  have  a 
large  porcelain  dish  fit  to  hold  them  ;  fetch  it,  and  let  us 
see  how  they  will  look  when  we  have  arranged  them 
according  to  their  different  colors." 

Aladdin's  mother  brought  the  china  dish,  when  he 
took  the  jewels  out  of  the  two  purses  in  which  he  had 
kept  them,  and  placed  them  in  order,  according  to  his 
fancy.  But  the  brightness  and  lustre  they  emitted  in 
the  daytime,  and  the  variety  of  the  colors,  so  dazzled 
the  eyes  both  of  mother  and  son  that  they  were  aston- 
ished beyond  measure.  Aladdin's  mother,  emboldened 
by  the  sight  of  these  rich  jewels,  and  fearful  lest  her  son 
should  be  guilty  of  greater  extravagance,  complied  with 
his  request,  and  promised  to  go  early  in  the  next  morn- 
ing to  the  palace  of  the  sultan.  Aladdin  rose  before 
daybreak,  awakened  his  mother,  pressing  her  to  go  to 
the  sultan's  palace,  and  to  get  admittance,  if  possible, 
before  the  grand  vizier,  the  other  viziers,  and  the  great 
officers  of  state  went  in  to  take  their  seats  in  the  divan, 
where  the  sultan  always  attended  in  person. 

Aladdin's  mother  took  the  china  dish,  in  which  they 
had  put  the  jewels  the  day  before,  wrapped  it  in  two 
fine  napkins,  and  set  forward  for  the  sultan's  palace. 
When  she  came  to  the  gates,  the  grand  vizier,  the  other 
viziers,  and  most  distinguished  lords  of  the  court  were 
just  gone  in ;  but  notwithstanding  the  crowd  of  people 
was  great,  she  got  into  the  divan,  a  spacious  hall,  the 
entrance  into  which  was  very  magnificent.  She  placed 
herself  just  before  the  sultan,  grand  vizier,  and  the  great 
lords,  who  sat  in  council,  on  his  right  and  left  hand. 


64  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Several  causes  were  called,  according  to  their  order, 
pleaded  and  adjudged,  until  the  time  the  divan  generally 
broke  up,  when  the  sultan,  rising,  returned  to  his  apart- 
ment, attended  by  the  grand  vizier ;  the  other  viziers 
and  ministers  of  state  then  retired,  as  also  did  all  those 
whose  business  had  called  them  thither. 

Aladdin's  mother,  seeing  the  sultan  retire  and  all 
the  people  depart,  judged  rightly  that  he  would  not  sit 
again  that  day,  and  resolved  to  go  home ;  and  on  her 
arrival  said,  with  much  simplicity,  "  Son,  I  have  seen  the 
sultan,  and  am  very  well  persuaded  he  has  seen  me,  too, 
(uT  I  placed  myself  just  before  him  ;  but  he  was  so  much 
taken  up  with  those  who  attended  on  all  sides  of  him 
that  I  pitied  him,  and  wondered  at  his  patience.  At 
last  I  believe  he  was  heartily  tired,  for  he  rose  up  sud- 
denly, and  would  not  hear  a  great  many  who  were  ready 
prepared  to  speak  to  him,  but  went  away,  at  which  I 
was  well  pleased,  for  indeed  I  began  to  lose  all  patience, 
and  was  extremely  fatigued  with  staying  so  long.  But 
there  is  no  harm  done ;  I  will  go  again  to-morrow ; 
perhaps  the  sultan  may  not  be  so  busy." 

The  next  morning  she  repaired  to  the  sultan's  palace 
with  the  present,  as  early  as  the  day  before ;  but  when 
she  came  there,  she  found  the  gates  of  the  divan  shut.^ 
She  went  six  times  afterward  on  the  days  appointed, 
placed  herself  always  directly  before  the  sultan,  but  with 
as  little  success  as  the  first  morning. 

On  the  sixth  day,  however,  after  the  divan  was  broken 
up,  when  the  sultan  returned  to  his  own  apartment,  he 
said  to  his  grand  vizier  :  "  I  have  for  some  time  observed 
a  certain  woman,  who  attends  constantly  every  day  that 
I  give  audience,  with  something  wrapped  up  in  a  nap- 

^  Sir  Paul  Ricaut  says  that  the  divan  is  not  held  on  two  suc- 
cessive days. 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     65 

kin ;  she  always  stands  up  from  the  beginning  to  the 
breaking  up  of  the  audience,  and  affects  to  place  her- 
self just  before  me.  If  this  woman  comes  to  our  next 
audience,  do  not  fail  to  call  her,  that  I  may  hear  what 
she  has  to  say."  The  grand  vizier  made  answer  by  low- 
ering his  hand,  and  then  lifting  it  up  above  his  head, 
signifying  his  willingness  to  lose  it  if  he  failed. 

On  the  next  audience  day,  when  Aladdin's  mother 
went  to  the  divan  and  placed  herself  in  front  of  the  sul- 
tan as  usual,  the  grand  vizier  immediately  called  the 
chief  of  the  mace-bearers,  and  pointing  to  her  bade  him 
bring  her  before  the  sultan.  The  old  woman  at  once 
followed  the  mace-bearer,  and  when  she  reached  the 
sultan,  bowed  her  head  down  to  the  carpet  which  covered 
the  platform  of  the  throne,  and  remained  in  that  posture 
until  he  bade  her  rise  ;  which  she  had  no  sooner  done 
than  he  said  to  her,  "  Good  woman,  I  have  observed 
you  to  stand  many  days  from  the  beginning  to  the  rising 
of  the  divan;   what  business  brings  you  here?" 

After  these  words,  Aladdin's  mother  prostrated  herself 
a  second  time ;  and  when  she  arose,  said,  "  Monarch  of 
monarchs,  I  beg  of  you  to  pardon  the  boldness  of  my 
petition,  and  to  assure  me  of  your  pardon  and  forgive- 
ness." "  Well,"  replied  the  sultan,  "  I  will  forgive  you, 
be  it  what  it  may,  and  no  hurt  shall  come  to  you  ;  speak 
boldly." 

When  Aladdin's  mother  had  taken  all  these  precau- 
tions, for  fear  of  the  sultan's  anger,  she  told  him  faith- 
fully the  errand  on  which  her  son  had  sent  her,  and  the 
event  which  led  to  his  making  so  bold  a  request  in  spite 
of  all  her  remonstrances. 

The  sultan  hearkened  to  this  discourse  without  showing 
the  least  anger  ;  but  before  he  gave  her  any  answer,  asked 
her  what  she  had  brought  tied  up  in  the  napkin.     She 

5 


66  Greatest  Short  Stones 

took  the  china  dish  which  she  had  set  down  at  the  foot 
of  the  throne,  untied  it,  and  presented  it  to  the  sultan. 

The  sultan's  amazement  and  surprise  were  inexpres- 
sible, when  he  saw  so  many  large,  beautiful,  and  valuable 
jewels  collected  in  the  dish.  He  remained  for  some 
time  lost  in  admiration.  At  Inst,  when  he  had  recovered 
himself,  he  received  the  present  from  Aladdin's  mother's 
hand,  saying,  "How  rich,  how  beautiful!"  After  he 
had  admired  and  handled  all  the  jewels  one  after  an- 
other, he  turned  to  his  grand  vizier,  and  showing  him 
the  dish,  said,  "  Behold,  admire,  wonder  !  and  confess 
that  your  eyes  never  beheld  jewels  so  rich  and  beautiful 
before."  The  vizier  was  charmed.  "  Well,"  continued 
the  sultan,  "what  sayest  thou  to  such  a  present?  Is  it 
not  worthy  of  the  princess  my  daughter?  And  ought  I 
not  to  bestow  her  on  one  who  values  her  at  so  great  a 
price?  "  "I  cannot  but  own,"  replied  the  grand  vizier, 
'  that  the  present  is  worthy  of  the  princess ;  but  I  beg, 
of  your  majesty  to  grant  me  three  months  before  you 
come  to  a  final  resolution.  I  hope,  before  that  time,  my 
son,  whom  you  have  regarded  with  your  favor,  will  be 
able  to  make  a  nobler  present  than  this  Aladdin,  who  is 
an  entire  stranger  to  your  majesty." 

The  sultan  granted  his  request,  and  he  said  to  the  old 
woman,  "  Good  woman,  go  home,  and  tell  your  son  that 
I  agree  to  the  proposal  you  have  made  me  ;  but  I  cannot 
marry  the  princess  my  daughter  for  three  months  ;  at 
the  expiration  of  that  time  come  again." 

Aladdin's  mother  returned  home  much  more  gratified 
than  she  had  expected,  and  told  her  son  with  much  joy  the 
condescending  answer  she  had  received  from  the  sultan's 
own  mouth  ;  and  that  she  was  to  come  to  the  divan 
again  that  day  three  months. 

Aladdin  thought  himself  the  most  happy  of  all  men  at 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     67 

hearing  this  news,  and  thanked  his  inother  for  the  pains 
she  had  taken  in  the  affair,  the  good  success  of  which 
was  of  so  great  importance  to  his  peace,  that  he  counted 
every  day,  week,  and  even  hour  as  it  passed.  When  two 
of  the  three  months  were  passed,  his  mother  one  evening, 
having  no  oil  in  the  house,  went  out  to  buy  some,  and 
found  a  general  rejoicing,  —  the  houses  dressed  with  foli- 
age, silks,  and  carpeting,  and  every  one  striving  to  show 
their  joy  according  to  their  ability.  The  streets  were 
crowded  with  officers  in  habits  of  ceremony,  mounted  on 
horses  richly  caparisoned,  each  attended  by  a  great  many 
footmen.  Aladdin's  mother  asked  the  oil  merchant  what 
was  the  meaning  of  all  this  preparation  of  public  festivity. 
"  Whence  came  you,  good  woman,"  said  he,  "  that  you 
don't  know  that  the  grand  vizier's  son  is  to  marry  the 
Princess  Buddir  al  Buddoor,  the  sultan's  daughter,  to- 
night? She  will  presently  return  from  the  bath;  and 
these  officers  whom  you  see  are  to  assist  at  the  cavalcade 
to  the  palace,  where  the  ceremony  is  to  be  solemnized." 

Aladdin's  mother,  on  hearing  this  news,  ran  home 
very  quickly.  "  Child,"  cried  she,  "  you  are  undone  ! 
the  sultan's  fine  promises  will  come  to  nought.  This 
night  the  grand  vizier's  son  is  to  marry  the  Princess 
Buddir  al  Buddoor." 

At  this  account,  Aladdin  was  thunderstruck,  and  he 
be'thought  himself  of  the  lamp,  and  of  the  genie  who  had 
promised  to  obey  him  ;  and  without  indulging  in  idle 
words  against  the  sultan,  the  vizier,  or  his  son,  he  deter- 
mined, if  possible,  to  prevent  the  marriage. 

When  Aladdin  had  got  into  his  chamber,  he  took  the 
lamp,  rubbed  it  in  the  same  place  as  before,  when  im- 
mediately the  genie  appeared,  and  said  to  him,  "  What 
wouldst  thou  have?  I  am  ready  to  obey  thee  as  thy 
slave  ;  I,  and  the  other  slaves  of  the  lamp."    "  Hear  me," 


68  Cireatest  Short  Stories 

said  Aladdin  ;  "  thou  hast  hitherto  obeyed  me,  but  now 
I  am  about  to  impose  on  thee  a  harder  task.  •  The  sul- 
tan's daughter,  who  was  promised  me  as  my  bride,  is  this 
night  married  to  the  son  of  the  grand  vizier.  Bring 
them  both  hither  to  me  immediately  they  retire  to  their 
bedchamber." 

"  Master."  replied  the  genie,  "  I  obey  you." 
Aladdin   sjpped  with  his  mother  as  was  their  wont, 
and  then  went  to  his  own  apartment,  and  sat  up  to  await 
the  return  of  the  genie,  according  to  his  commands. 

In  the  meantime  the  festivities  in  honor  of  the  prin- 
cess's marriage  were  conducted  in  the  sultan's  palace 
with  great  magnificence.  The  ceremonies  were  at  last 
brought  to  a  conclusion,  and  the  princess  and  the  son  of 
the  vizier  retired  to  the  bedchamber  prepared  for  them. 
No  sooner  had  they  entered  it,  and  dismissed  their  at- 
tendants, than  the  genie,  the  faithful  slave  of  the  lamp, 
to  the  great  amazement  and  alarm  of  the  bride  and 
bridegroom,  took  up  the  bed,  and  by  an  agency  invisible. 
to  them,  transported  it  in  an  instant  into  Aladtlin's 
chamber,  where  he  set  it  down.  "  Remove  the  bride- 
groom," said  Aladdin  to  the  genie,  "  and  keep  him  a 
prisoner  till  to-morrow  dawn,  and  then  return  with  him 
here."  On  Aladdin  being  left  alone  with  the  princess, 
he  endeavored  to  assuage  her  fears,  and  explained  to 
her  the  treachery  practised  upon  him  by  the  sultan  her 
father.  He  then  laid  himself  down  beside  her,  putting 
a  drawn  scimitar  between  them,  to  show  that  he  was 
determined  to  secure  her  safety,  and  to  treat  her  with 
the  utmost  possible  respect.  At  break  of  day,  the  genie 
appeared  at  the  appointed  hour,  bringing  back  the  bride- 
groom, whom  by  breathing  upon  he  had  left  motionless 
and  entranced  at  the  door  of  Aladdin's  chamber  during 
the  night,  and   at  Aladdin's  command  transported  the 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     69 

couch  with  the  bride  and  bridegroom  on  it,  by  the  same 
invisible  agency,  into  the  palace  of  the  sultan. 

At  the  instant  that  the  genie  had  set  down  the  couch 
with  the  bride  and  bridegroom  in  their  own  chamber,  the 
sultan  came  to  the  door  to  offer  his  good  wishes  to  his 
daughter.  The  grand  vizier's  son,  who  was  almost  per- 
ished with  cold  by  standing  in  his  thin  under-garment 
all  night,  no  sooner  heard  the  knocking  at  the  door  than 
he  got  out  of  bed,  and  ran  into  the  robing-chamber, 
where  he  had  undressed  himself  the  night  before. 

The  sultan  having  opened  the  door,  went  to  the  bed- 
side, kissed  the  princess  on  the  forehead,  but  was  ex- 
tremely surprised  to  see  her  look  so  melancholy.  She 
only  cast  at  him  a  sorrowful  look,  expressive  of  great 
affliction.  He  suspected  there  was  nothing  extraordinary 
in  this  silence,  and  thereupon  went  immediately  to  the 
sultaness's  apartment,  told  her  in  what  a  state  he  found 
the  princess,  and  how  she  had  received  him.  "  Sire," 
said  the  sultaness,  "  I  will  go  and  see  her ;  she  will  not 
receive  me  in'  the  same  manner." 

The  princess  received  her  mother  with  sighs  and  tears, 
and  signs  of  deep  dejection.  At  last,  upon  her  pressing 
on  her  the  duty  of  telling  her  all  her  thoughts,  she  gave 
to  the  sultaness  a  precise  description  of  all  that  happened 
to  her  during  the  night ;  on  which  the  sultaness  enjoined 
on  her  the  necessity  of  silence  and  discretion,  as  no  one 
would  give  credence  to  so  strange  a  tale.  The  grand 
vizier's  son,  elated  with  the  honor  of  being  the  sultan's 
son-in-law,  kept  silence  on  his  part,  and  the  events  of 
the  night  were  not  allowed  to  cast  the  least  gloom  on  the 
festivities  on  the  following  day,  in  continued  celebration 
of  the  royal  marriage. 

When  night  came,  the  bride  and  bridegroom  were 
[again   attended   to  their  chamber  with  the  same  cere- 


70  Greatest  Short  Stories 

monies  as  on  the  preceding  evening.  Alr.(l<lin,  knowing 
that  this  would  be  so,  had  already  given  his  commands 
to  the  genie  of  the  lamp ;  and  no  sooner  were  they  alone 
than  their  bed  was  removed  in  the  same  mysterious 
manner  as  on  the  preceding  evening ;  and  having  passed 
the  night  in  the  same  unpleasant  way,  they  were  in  the 
morning  conveyed  to  the  palace  of  the  sultan.  Scarcely 
had  they  been  replaced  in  their  apartment,  when  the 
sultan  came  to  make  his  compliments  to  his  daughter, 
when  the  princess  could  no  longer  conceal  from  him  the 
unhappy  treatment  she  had  been  subject  to,  and  told 
him  all  that  had  happened  as  she  had  already  related  it 
to  her  mother.  The  sultan,  on  hearing  these  strange 
tidings,  consulted  with  the  grand  vizier ;  and  finding 
from  him  that  his  son  had  been  subjected  to  even  worse 
treatment  by  an  invisible  agency,  he  determined  to  de- 
clare the  marriage  to  be  cancelled,  and  all  the  festivities, 
which  were  yet  to  last  for  several  days,  to  be  counter- 
manded and  terminated. 

This  sudden  change  in  the  mind  of  the  sultan  gave 
rise  to  various  speculations  and  reports.  Nobody  but 
Aladdin  knew  the  secret,  and  he  kept  it  with  the  most 
scrupulous  silence ;  and  neither  the  sultan  nor  the 
grand  vizier,  who  had  forgotten  Aladdin  and  his  re- 
quest, had  the  least  thought  that  he  had  any  hand 
in  the  strange  adventures  that  befell  the  bride  and 
bridegroom. 

On  the  very  day  that  the  three  months  contained  in 
the  sultan's  promise  expired,  the  mother  of  Aladdin  again 
went  to  the  palace,  and  stood  in  the  same  place  in  the 
divan.  The  sultan  knew  her  again,  and  directed  his 
vizier  to  have  her  brought  before  him. 

After  having  prostrated  herself,  she  made  answer,  in 
reply  to  the  sultan  :  "  Sire,  I  come  at  the  end  of  three 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     71 

months  to  ask  of  you  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise  you 
made  to  my  son."  The  sultan  little  thought  the  request 
of  Aladdin's  mother  was  made  to  him  in  earnest,  or  that 
he  would  hear  any  more  of  the  matter.  He  therefore 
took  counsel  with  his  vizier,  who  suggested  that  the 
sultan  should  attach  such  conditions  to  the  marriage 
as  no  one  of  the  humble  condition  of  Aladdin  could 
p(;ssibly  fulfil.  In  accordance  with  this  suggestion  of 
the  vizier,  the  sultan  replied  to  the  mother  of  Aladdin  : 
"  Good  woman,  it  is  true  sultans  ought  to  abide  by  their 
word,  and  I  am  ready  to  keep  mine  and  make  your 
son  happy  in  marriage  with  the  princess  my  daughter. 
But  as  I  cannot  marry  her  without  some  further  proof  of 
your  son's  being  able  to  support  her  in  royal  state,  you 
may  tell  him  I  will  fulfil  my  promise  as  soon  as  he  shall 
send  me  forty  trays  of  massy  gold,  full  of  the  same  sort 
of  jewels  you  have  already  made  me  a  present  of,  and 
carried  by  the  like  number  of  black  slaves,  who  shall  be 
led  by  as  many  young  and  handsome  white  slaves,  all 
dressed  magnificently.  On  these  conditions  I  am  ready 
to  bestow  the  princess  my  daughter  upon  him ;  there- 
fore, good  woman,  go  and  tell  him  so,  and  I  will  wait 
till  you  bring  me  his  answer." 

Aladdin's  mother  prostrated  herself  a  second  time  be- 
fore the  sultan's  throne,  and  retired.  On  her  way  home 
she  laughed  within  herself  at  her  son's  foolish  imagina- 
tion. "  Where,"  said  she,  "  can  he  get  so  many  large 
gold  trays,  and  such  precious  stones  to  fill  them  ?  It  is 
altogether  out  of  his  power,  and  I  believe  he  will  not  be 
much  pleased  with  my  embassy  this  time."  When  she 
came  home,  full  of  these  thoughts,  she  told  Aladdin  all 
the  circumstances  of  her  interview  with  the  sultan,  and 
the  conditions  on  which  he  consented  to  the  marriage. 
"The  sultan  expects    your   answer    immediately,"   said 


72  Greatest  Short  Stories 

she  ;  and  then  addetl,  laughing,  "  I  believe  he  may  wait 
long  enough  !  " 

"  Not  so  long,  mother,  as  you  imagine,"  replied 
Aladdin.  "  This  demand  is  a  mere  trifle,  and  will  prove 
no  bar  to  my  marriage  with  the  princess.  I  will  prepare 
at  once  to  satisfy  his  request." 

Aladdin  retired  to  his  own  apartment  and  summoned 
the  genie  of  the  lamp,  and  required  him  to  prepare  and 
present  the  gift  immediately,  before  the  sultan  closed 
his  morning  audience,  according  to  the  terms  in  which 
it  had  been  prescribed.  The  genie  professed  his  obedi- 
ence to  the  owner  of  the  lamp,  and  disappeared.  Within 
a  very  short  time,  a  train  of  forty  black  slaves,  led  by 
the  same  number  of  white  slaves,  appeared  opposite  the 
house  in  which  Aladdin  lived.  Each  black  slave  carried 
on  his  head  a  basin  of  massy  gold,  full  of  pearls,  dia- 
monds, rubies,  and  emeralds.  Aladdin  then  addressed 
his  mother  :  "  Madam,  pray  lose  no  time  ;  before  the 
sultan  and  the  divan  rise,  I  would  have  you  return  to  the 
palace  with  this  present  as  the  dowry  demanded  for  the 
princess,  that  he  may  judge  by  my  diligence  and  exact- 
ness of  the  ardent  and  sincere  desire  I  have  to  procure 
myself  the  honor  of  this  alliance." 

As  soon  as  this  magnificent  procession,  with  Aladdin's 
mother  at  its  head,  had  begun  to  march  from  Aladdin's 
house,  the  whole  city  was  filled  with  the  crowds  of  peo- 
ple desirous  of  seeing  so  grand  a  sight.  The  graceful 
bearing,  elegant  form,  and  wonderful  likeness  of  each 
slave,  their  grave  walk  at  an  equal  distance  from  each 
other,  the  lustre  of  their  jewelled  girdles,  and  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  aigrettes  of  precious  stones  in  their  turbans, 
excited  the  greatest  admiration  in  the  spectators.  As 
they  had  to  pass  through  several  streets  to  the  palace, 
the  whole  length  of  the  way  was  lined  with  files  of  spec- 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     73 

tators.  Nothing,  indeed,  was  ever  seen  so  beautiful  and 
brilliant  in  the  sultan's  palace,  and  the  richest  robes  of 
the  emirs  of  his  court  were  not  to  be  compared  to  the 
costly  dresses  of  tliese  slaves,  whom  they  supposed  to  be 
kings. 

As  the  sultan,  who  had  been  informed  of  their  ap- 
proach, had  given  orders  for  them  to  be  admitted,  they 
met  with  no  obstacle,  but  went  into  the  divan  in  regular 
order,  one  part  turning  to  the  right  and  the  other  to  the 
left.  After  they  were  all  entered,  and  had  formed  a 
semicircle  before  the  sultan's  throne,  the  black  slaves 
laid  the  golden  trays  on  the  carpet,  prostrated  them- 
selves, touching  the  carpet  with  their  foreheads,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  white  slaves  did  the  same.  When 
they  rose,  the  black  slaves  uncovered  the  trays,  and  then 
all  stood  with  their  arms  crossed  over  their  breasts. 

In  the  meantime,  Aladdin's  mother  advanced  to  the 
foot  of  the  throne,  and  having  prostrated  herself,  said  to 
the  sultan,  "  Sire,  my  son  knows  this  present  is  much 
below  the  notice  of  Princess  Buddir  al  Buddoor ;  but 
hopes,  nevertheless,  that  your  majesty  will  accept  of  it, 
and  make  it  agreeable  to  the  princess,  and  with  the 
greater  confidence  since  he  has  endeavored  to  conform 
to  the  conditions  you  were   pleased  to  impose." 

The  sultan,  overpowered  at  the  sight  of  such  more 
than  royal  magnificence,  replied  without  hesitation  to 
the  words  of  Aladdin's  mother  :  "  Go  and  tell  your  son 
that  I  wait  with  open  arms  to  embrace  him ;  and  the 
more  haste  he  makes  to  come  and  receive  the  princess 
my  daughter  from  my  hands,  the  greater  pleasure  he 
will  give  me."  As  soon  as  Aladdin's  mother  had  retired, 
the  sultan  put  an  end  to  the  audience ;  and  rising  from 
his  throne  ordered  that  the  princess's  attendants  should 
come  and  carry  the  trays  into  their  mistress's  apartment, 


74  Greatest  Short  Stories 

whitlicr  he  went  himself  to  examine  them  with  her  at  his 
leisure.  The  fourscore  slaves  were  conducted  into  the 
palace  ;  and  the  sultan,  telling  the  princess  of  their  mag- 
nificent apparel,  ordered  them  to  be  brought  before  her 
apartment,  that  she  might  see  through  the  lattices  he 
had  not  exaggerated  in  his  account  of  them. 

In  the  meantime  Aladdin's  mother  reached  home, 
and  showed  in  her  air  and  countenance  the  good  news 
she  brought  to  her  son.  "  My  son,"  said  she,  "  you  may 
rejoice  you  are  arrived  at  the  height  of  your  desire? 
The  sultan  has  declared  that  you  shall  marry  the  Princes. 
Buddir  al  Buddoor.     He  waits  for  you  with  impatience." 

Aladdin,  enraptured  with  this  news,  made  his  mother 
very  little  reply,  but  retired  to  his  chamber.  There  he 
rubbed  his  lamp,  and  the  obedient  genie  appeared. 
"  Genie,"  said  Aladdin,  "  convey  me  at  once  to  a  bath, 
and  supply  me  with  the  richest  and  most  magnificent 
robe  ever  worn  by  a  monarch."  No  sooner  were  the 
words  out  of  his  mouth  than  the  genie  rendered  him,  as 
well  as  himself,  invisible,  and  transported  him  into  a 
hummum  ^  of  the  finest  marble  of  all  sorts  of  colors ; 
where  he  was  undressed,  without  seeing  by  whom,  in  a 
magnificent  and  spacious  hall.  He  was  then  well  rubbed 
and  washed  with  various  scented  waters.  After  he  had 
passed  through  several  degrees  of  heat,  he  came  out 
quite  a  different  man  from  what  he  was  before.  His  skin 
was  clear  as  that  of  a  child,  his  body  lightsome  and  free  ; 
and  when  he  returned  into  the  hall,  he  found,  instead  of 
his  own  poor  raiment,  a  robe,  the  magnificence  of  which 
astonished  him.  The  genie  helped  him  to  dress,  and 
when  he  had  done,  transported  him  back  to  his  own 
chamber,  where  he  asked  him  if  he  had  any  other 
commands.     "Yes,"   answered    Aladdin,    "bring  me  a 

1  A  Turkish  word  for  a  bath. 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp      75 

charger  that  surpasses  in  beauty  and  goodness  the  best 
in  the  sultan's  stables ;  with  a  saddle,  bridle,  and  other 
caparisons  to  correspond  with  his  value.  Furnish  also 
twenty  slaves,  as  richly  clothed  as  those  who  carried  the 
present  to  the  sultan,  to  walk  by  my  side  and  follow  me, 
and  twenty  more  to  go  before  me  in  two  ranks.  Besides 
these,  bring  my  mother  six  women  slaves  to  attend  her, 
as  richly  dressed  at  least  as  any  of  the  Princess  Buddir 
al  Buddoor's,  each  carrying  a  complete  dress  fit  for  any 
sultaness.  I  want  also  ten  thousand  pieces  of  gold  in 
ten  purses  ;  go,  and  make   haste." 

As  soon  as  Aladdin  had  given  these  orders,  the  genie 
disappeared,  but  presently  returned  with  the  horse,  the 
forty  slaves,  ten  of  whom  carried  each  a  purse  contain- 
ing ten  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  and  six  women  slaves, 
each  carrying  on  her  head  a  different  dress  for  Aladdin's 
mother,  wrapt  up  in  a  piece  of  silver  tissue,  and  pre- 
sented them  all  to  Aladdin. 

He  presented  the  six  women  slaves  to  his  mother, 
telling  her  they  were  her  slaves,  and  that  the  dresses 
they  had  brought  were  for  her  use.  Of  the  ten  purses 
Aladdin  took  four,  which  he  gave  to  his  mother,  telling 
her,  those  were  to  supply  her  with  necessaries  ;  the  other 
six  he  left  in  the  hands  of  the  slaves  who  brought  them, 
with  an  order  to  throw  them  by  handfuls  among  the 
people  as  they  went  to  the  sultan's  palace.  The  six 
slaves  who  carried  the  purses  he  ordered  likewise  to 
march  before  him,  three  on  the  right  hand  and  three 
on  the  left. 

When  Aladdin  had  thus  prepared  himself  for  his  first 
interview  with  the  sultan,  he  dismissed  the  genie,  and 
immediately  mounting  his  charger,  began  his  march, 
and  though  he  never  was  on  horseback  before,  appeared 
with  a  grace  the  most  experienced  horseman  might  envy. 


76  Greatest  Short  Stories 

The  innumerable  concourse  of  people  through  whom  he 
passed  made  the  air  echo  with  their  acclamations,  es- 
pecially every  time  the  six  slaves  who  carried  the 
jHirses  threw   handfuls  of  gold   among  the   populace. 

On  Aladdin's  arrival  at  the  palace,  the  sultan  was  sur- 
prised to  find  him  more  richly  and  magnificently  robed 
than  he  had  ever  been  himself,  and  was  impressed  with 
his  good  looks  and  dignity  of  manner,  which  were  so 
different  from  what  he  expected  in  the  son  of  one 
so  humble  as  Aladdin's  mother.  He  embraced  him 
with  all  the  demonstrations  of  joy,  and  when  he  would 
have  fallen  at  his  feet,  held  him  by  the  hand,  and  made 
him  sit  near  his  throne.  He  shortly  after  led  him  amidst 
the  sounds  of  trumpets,  hautboys,  and  all  kinds  of  music, 
to  a  magnificent  entertainment,  at  which  the  sultan  and 
Aladdin  ate  by  themselves,  and  the  great  lords  of  the 
court,  according  to  their  rank  and  dignity,  sat  at  different 
tables.  After  the  feast,  the  sultan  sent  for  the  chief 
cadi,  and  commanded  him  to  draw  up  a  contract  of 
marriage  between  the  Princess  Buddir  al  Buddoor  and 
Aladdin.  When  the  contract  had  been  drawn,  the  sultan 
asked  Aladdin  if  he  would  stay  in  the  palace  and  com- 
plete the  ceremonies  of  the  marriage  that  day.  "  Sire," 
said  Aladdin,  "  though  great  is  my  impatience  to  enter 
on  the  honor  granted  me  by  your  majesty,  yet  I  beg  you 
to  permit  me  first  to  build  a  palace  worthy  to  receive  the 
princess  your  daughter.  I  pray  you  to  grant  me  sutifi- 
cient  ground  near  your  palace,  and  I  will  have  it  com- 
pleted with  the  utmost  expedition."  The  sultan  granted 
Aladdin  his  request,  and  again  embraced  him.  After 
which  he  took  his  leave  with  as  much  politeness  as  if  he 
had  been  bred  up  and  had  always  lived  at  court. 

Aladdin  returned  home  in  the  order  he  had  come, 
amidst   the   acclamations   of  the    people,    who   wished 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp      77 

him  all  happiness  and  prosperity.  As  soon  as  he  dis- 
mounted, he  retired  to  his  own  chamber,  took  the  lamp, 
and  summoned  the  genie  as  usual,  who  professed  his 
allegiance.  "Genie,"  said  Aladdin,  '"build  me  a  palace 
fit  to  receive  the  Princess  Buddir  al  Buddoor.  Let  its 
materials  be  made  of  nothing  less  than  porphyry,  jasper, 
agate,  lapis  lazuli,  and  the  finest  marble.  Let  its  walls 
be  massive  gold  and  silver  bricks  laid  alternately.  Let 
each  front  contain  six  windows,  and  let  the  lattices  of 
these  (except  one,  which  must  be  left  unfinished)  be  en- 
riched with  diamonds,  rubies,  and  emeralds,  so  that  they 
shall  exceed  everything  of  the  kind  ever  seen  in  the 
world.  Let  there  be  an  mner  and  outer  court  in  front 
of  the  palace,  and  a  spacious  garden ;  but  above  all 
things,  provide  a  safe  treasure-house,  and  fill  it  with  gold 
and  silver.  Let  there  be  also  kitchens  and  storehouses, 
stables  full  of  the  finest  horses,  with  their  equerries 
and  grooms  and  hunting  equipage,  officers,  attendants, 
and  slaves,  both  men  and  women,  to  form  a  retinue 
for  the  princess  and  myself.  Go  and  execute  my 
wishes." 

When  Aladdin  gave  these  commands  to  the  genie,  the 
sun  was  set.  The  next  morning  at  daybreak  the  genie 
presented  himself,  and,  having  obtained  Aladdin's  con- 
sent, transported  him  in  a  moment  to  the  palace  he  had 
made.  The  genie  led  him  through  all  the  apartments, 
where  he  found  officers  and  slaves,  habited  according 
to  their  rank  and  the  services  to  which  they  were  ap- 
pointed. The  genie  then  showed  him  the  treasury, 
which  was  opened  by  a  treasurer,  where  Aladdin  saw 
large  vases  of  different  sizes,  piled  up  to  the  top  with 
money,  ranged  all  around  the  chamber.  The  genie 
thence  led  him  to  the  stables,  where  were  some  of  the 
finest  horses  in  the  world,  and  the  grooms  busy  in  dress- 


78  Greatest  Short  Stories 

ing  them  ;  from  there  they  went  to  the  storehouses, 
wliich  were  filled  with  all  things  necessary  both  for  food 
and  ornament. 

When  Aladdin  had  examined  every  portion  of  the 
palace,  and  particularly  the  hall  with  the  four-and-twenty 
windows,  and  found  it  far  to  exceed  his  fondest  expecta- 
tions, he  said,  "Genie,  there  is  one  thing  wanting,  a  fine 
carpet  for  the  princess  to  walk  upon  from  the  sultan's 
palace  to  mine.  Lay  one  down  immediately."  The 
genie  disappeared,  and  Aladdin  saw  what  he  desired  exe- 
cuted in  an  instant.  The  genie  then  returned,  and  car- 
ried him  to  his  own  home. 

When  the  sultan's  porters  came  to  open  the  gates, 
they  were  amazed  to  find  what  had  been  an  unoccupied 
garden  filled  up  with  a  magnificent  palace,  and  a  splendid 
carpet  extending  to  it  all  the  way  from  the  sultan's  pal- 
ace. They  told  the  strange  tidings  to  the  grand  vizier, 
who  informed  the  sultan,  who  exclaimed,  "  It  must  be 
Aladdin's  palace,  which  I  gave  him  leave  to  build 
for  my  daughter.  He  has  wished  to  surprise  us, 
and  let  us  see  what  wonders  can  be  done  in  only  one 
night." 

Aladdin,  on  his  being  conveyed  by  the  genie  to  his 
own  home,  requested  his  mother  to  go  to  the  Princess 
Buddir  al  Buddoor,  and  tell  her  that  the  palace  would  be 
ready  for  her  reception  in  the  evening.  She  went,  at- 
tended by  her  women  slaves,  in  the  same  order  as  on  the 
preceding  day.  Shortly  after  her  arrival  at  the  princess's 
apartment,  the  sultan  himself  came  in,  and  was  surprised 
to  find  her,  whom  he  knew  as  his  suppliant  at  his  divan 
in  such  humble  guise,  to  be  now  more  richly  and  sump- 
tuously attired  than  his  own  daughter.  This  gave  him 
a  higher  opinion  of  Aladdin,  who  took  such  care  of  his 
mother,  and  made  her  share    his    wealth  and    honors- 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp      79 

Shortly  after  her  departure,  Aladdin,  mounting  his  horse, 
and  attended  by  his  retinue  of  magnificent  attendants, 
left  his  paternal  home  forever,  and  went  to  the  palace  in 
the  same  pomp  as  on  the  day  before.  Nor  did  he  for- 
get to  take  with  him  the  Wonderful  Lamp,  to  which  he 
owed  all  his  good  fortune,  nor  to  wear  the  Ring  which 
was  given  him  as  a  talisman.  The  sultan  entertained 
Aladdin  with  the  utmost  magnificence,  and  at  night,  on 
the  conclusion  of  the  marriage  ceremonies,  the  princess 
took  leave  of  the  sultan  her  father.  Bands  of  music  led 
the  procession,  followed  by  a  hundred  state  ushers,  and 
the  like  number  of  black  mutes,  in  two  files,  with  their 
officers  at  their  head.  Four  hundred  of  the  sultan's 
young  pages  carried  flambeaux  on  each  side,  which,  to- 
gether with  the  illuminations  of  the  sultan's  and  Alad- 
din's palaces,  made  it  as  light  as  day.  In  this  order  the 
princess,  conveyed  in  her  litter,  and  accompanied  also 
by  Aladdin's  mother,  carried  in  a  superb  litter  and  at- 
tended by  her  women  slaves,  proceeded  on  the  carpet 
which  was  spread  from  the  sultan's  palace  to  that  of 
Aladdin.  On  her  arrival  Aladdin  was  ready  to  receive 
her  at  the  entrance,  and  led  her  into  a  large  hall,  illuuii- 
nated  with  an  infinite  number  of  wax  candles,  where  a 
noble  feast  was  served  up.  The  dishes  were  of  massy 
gold,  and  contained  the  most  delicate  viands.  The 
vases,  basins,  and  goblets  were  gold  also,  and  of  ex- 
quisite workmanship,  and  all  the  other  ornaments  and 
embellishments  of  the  hall  were  answerable  to  this  dis- 
play. The  princess,  dazzled  to  see  so  much  riches  col- 
lected in  one  place,  said  to  Aladdin,  "  I  thought,  prince, 
that  nothing  in  the  world  was  so  beautiful  as  the  sultan 
my  father's  palace,  but  the  sight  of  this  hall  alone  is 
sufficient   to  show   I   was  deceived." 

When  the  supper  was  ended,  there  entered  a  company 


So  Greatest  Short  Stories 

of  female  dancers/  who  performed,  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  the  country,  singing  at  the  same  time  verses  in 
praise  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom.  About  midnight 
Aladdin's  mother  conducted  the  bride  to  the  nuptial 
apartment,  and  he  soon   after  retired. 

The  next  morning  the  attendants  of  Aladdin  presented 
themselves  to  dress  him,  and  brought  him  another  habit, 
as  rich  and  magnificent  as  that  worn  the  day  before.  He 
then  ordered  one  of  the  horses  to  be  got  ready,  mounted 
him,  and  went  in  the  midst  of  a  large  troop  of  slaves  to 
the  sultan's  palace  to  entreat  him  to  take  a  repast  in  the 
princess's  palace,  attended  by  his  grand  vizier  and  all 
the  lords  of  his  court.  The  sultan  consented  with  pleas- 
ure, rose  up  immediately,  and,  preceded  by  the  principal 
officers  of  his  palace  and  followed  by  all  the  great  lords 
of  his  court,  accompanied  Aladdin. 

The  nearer  the  sultan  approached  Aladdin's  palace, 
the  more  he  was  struck  with  its  beauty ;  but  when  he 
entered  it,  came  into  the  hall,  and  saw  the  windows  en- 
riched with  diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds,  all  large,  perfect 
stones,  he  was  completely  surprised,  and  said  to  his  son- 
in-law,  "  This  palace  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world  ; 
for  where  in  all  the  world  besides  shall  we  find  walls  built 
of  massy  gold  and  silver,  and  diamonds,  rubies,  and  eme- 
ralds composing  the  windows?  But  what  most  surprises 
me  is,  that  a  hall  of  this  magnificence  should  be  left  with 
one  of  its  windows  incomplete  and  unfinished."  "Sire," 
answered  Aladdin,  "  the  omission  was  by  design,  since  I 
wished  that  you  should  have  the  glory  of  finishing  this 
hall."  "  I  take  your  intention  kindly,"  said  the  sultan, 
"  and  will  give  orders  about  it  immediately." 

After  the  sultan   had  finished  this  magnificent  enter- 

^  These  were  the  "  Nautch  girls,"  attached  to  this  day  to  all 
Eastern  courts. 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     8i 

tainment,  provided  for  him  and  for  his  court  by  Alad- 
din, he  was  informed  that  the  jewellers  and  goldsmiths 
attended ;  upon  which  he  returned  to  the  hall,  and 
showed  them  the  window  which  was  unfinished.  "  I 
sent  for  you,"  said  he,  "  to  fit  up  this  window  in  as  great 
perfection  as  the  rest.  Examine  them  well,  and  make 
all  the  dispatch  you  can." 

The  jewellers  and  goldsmiths  examined  the  three-and- 
twenty  windows  with  great  attention,  and  after  they  had 
consulted  together,  to  know  what  each  could  furnish, 
they  returned,  and  presented  themselves  before  the  sul- 
tan, whose  principal  jeweller,  undertaking  to  speak  for 
the  rest,  said,  "  Sire,  we  are  all  willing  to  exert  our  ut- 
most care  and  industry  to  obey  you  ;  but  among  us  all 
v/e  cannot  furnish  jewels  enough  for  so  great  a  work." 
"  I  have  more  than  are  necessary,"  said  the  sultan ; 
"  come  to  my  palace,  and  you  shall  choose  what  may 
answer  your  purpose." 

When  the  sultan  returned  to  his  palace,  he  ordered 
his  jewels  to  be  brought  out,  and  the  jewellers  took  a 
great  quantity,  particularly  those  Aladdin  had  made  him 
a  present  of,  which  they  soon  used,  without  making  any 
great  advance  in  their  work.  They  came  again  several 
times  for  more,  and  in  a  month's  time  had  not  finished 
half  their  work.  In  short,  they  used  all  the  jewels  the 
sultan  had,  and  borrowed  of  the  vizier,  but  yet  the  work 
was  not  half  done. 

Aladdin,  who  knew  that  all  the  sultan's  endeavors  to 
make  this  window  like  the  rest  were  in  vain,  sent  for  the 
jewellers  and  goldsmiths,  and  not  only  commanded  them 
to  desist  from  their  work,  but  ordered  them  to  undo 
what  they  had  begun,  and  to  carry  all  their  jewels  back 
to  the  sultan  and  to  the  vizier.  They  undid  in  a  few 
hours  what  they  had  been  six  weeks  about,  and  retired, 

6 


82  Greatest  Short  Stones 

leaving  Aladdin  alone  in  the  hall.  He  took  the  lamp, 
which  he  carried  about  him,  rubbed  it,  and  presently 
the  genie  appeared.  "  Genie,"  said  Aladdin,  "  I  ordered 
thee  to  leave  one  of  the  four-and-twenty  windows  of  this 
hall  imperfect,  and  thou  hast  executed  my  commands 
punctually ;  now  I  woukl  have  thee  make  it  like  the 
rest."  The  genie  immediately  disappeared.  Aladdin 
went  out  of  the  hall,  and  returning  soon  after,  found 
the  window,  as  he  wished  it  to  be,  like  the  others. 

In  the  meantime,  the  jewellers  and  goldsmiths  repaired 
to  the  palace,  and  were  introduced  into  the  sultan's  pres- 
ence ;  where  the  chief  jeweller  presented  the  precious 
stones  which  he  had  brought  back.  The  sultan  asked 
them  if  Aladdin  had  given  them  any  reason  for  so  doing, 
and  they  answering  that  he  had  given  them  none,  he 
ordered  a  horse  to  be  brought,  which  he  mounted,  and 
rode  to  his  son-in-law's  palace,  with  some  few  attend- 
ants on  foot,  to  inquire  why  he  had  ordered  the  com- 
pletion of  the  window  to  be  stopped.  Aladdin  met  him 
at  the  gate,  and  without  giving  any  reply  to  his  inquiries 
conducted  him  to  the  grand  saloon,  where  the  sultan, 
to  his  great  surprise,  found  the  window,  which  was  left 
imperfect,  to  correspond  exactly  with  the  others.  He 
fancied  at  first  that  he  was  mistaken,  and  examined  the 
two  windows  on  each  side,  and  afterward  all  the  four- 
and-twenty  ;  but  when  he  was  convinced  that  the  win- 
dow which  several  workmen  had  been  so  long  about 
was  finished  in  so  short  a  time,  he  embraced  Aladdin 
and  kissed  him  between  his  eyes.  "  My  son,"  said  he, 
"  what  a  man  you  are  to  do  such  surprising  things 
always  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  !  there  is  not  your 
fellow  in  the  world ;  the  more  I  know,  the  more  I  ad- 
mire you." 

The  sultan  returned  to  the  palace,  and  after  this  went 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp     83 

frequently  to  the  window  to  contemplate  and  admire  the 
wonderful  palace  of  his  son-in-law. 

Aladdin  did  not  confine  himself  in  his  palace,  but 
went  with  much  state,  sometimes  to  one  mosque,  and 
sometimes  to  another,  to  prayers,  or  to  visit  the  grand 
vizier  or  the  principal  lords  of  the  court.  Every  time 
he  went  out,  he  caused  two  slaves,  who  walked  by  the 
side  of  his  horse,  to  throw  handfuls  of  money  among 
the  people  as  he  passed  through  the  streets  and  squares. 
This  generosity  gained  hira  the  love  and  blessings  of  the 
people,  and  it  was  common  for  them  to  swear  by  his 
head.^  Thus  Aladdin,  while  he  paid  all  respect  to  the 
sultan,  won  by  his  affable  behavior  and  liberality  the 
affections  of  the  people. 

Aladdin  had  conducted  himself  in  this  manner  several 
years  when  the  African  magician,  who  had  for  some 
years  dismissed  him  from  his  recollection,  determined 
to  inform  himself  with  certainty  whether  he  perished, 
as  he  supposed,  in  the  subterranean  cave  or  not.  After 
he  had  resorted  to  a  long  course  of  magic  ceremonies, 
and  had  formed -a  horoscope  by  which  to  ascertain  Alad- 
din's fate,  what  was  his  surprise  to  find  the  appearances 
to  declare  that  Aladdin,  instead  of  dying  in  the  cave, 
had  made  his  escape,  and  was  living  in  royal  splendor, 
by  the  aid  of  the  genie  of  the  wonderful  lamp  ! 

On  the  very  next  day,  the  magician  set  out  and  trav- 
elled with  the  utmost  haste  to  the  capital  of  China,  where, 
on  his  arrival,  he  took  up  his  lodgings  in  a  khan. 

He  then  quickly  learnt  about  the  wealth,  charities, 
happiness,  and  splendid  palace  of  Prince  Aladdin.  Di- 
rectly he  saw  the  wonderful  fabric,  he  knew  that  none 
but  the  genies,  the  slaves  of  the  lamp,  could  have  per- 

1  There  is  a  trace  of  this  custom  in  Joseph's  swearing  to  his 
brethren,  "  13y  the  life  of  Pharaoh,  ye  are  spies  1 " 


84  Greatest  Short  Stories 

formed  such  wonders,  and,  piqued  to  the  quick  at  Alad- 
din's high  estate,  he  returned  to  the  khan. 

On  his  return  he  had  recourse  to  an  operation  ol 
geomancy  to  find  out  where  the  lamp  was — whether 
Aladdin  carried  it  about  with  him,  or  where  he  left  it. 
The  result  of  his  consultation  informed  him,  to  his  great 
joy,  that  the  lamp  was  in  the  palace.  "  Well,"  said  he, 
rubbing  his  hands  in  glee,  "  I  shall  have  the  lamp, 
and  I  shall  make  Aladdin  return  to  his  original  mean 
condition." 

The  next  day  the  magician  learnt,  from  the  chief  su- 
perintendent of  the  khan  where  he  lodged,  that  Aladdin 
had  gone  on  a  hunting  expeditipn,^  which  was  to  last  for 

^  "  But  even  in  the  East,  where  the  qualities  of  the  chetah  ap- 
pear to  be  best  appreciated,  and  his  faculties  to  be  turned  to  most 
account,  it  would  seem  that  he  is  not  employed  in  hunting  by  all 
classes  of  the  people  indiscriminately  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that 
he  is  reserved  for  the  especial  amusement  of  the  nobles  and  princes 
of  the  land  rather  than  used  for  purposes  of  real  and  general  ad- 
vantage. In  this  respect,  and,  indeed,  in  many  others,  as  will  be 
seen  by  the  following  brief  account  of  the  mode  in  which  the  chase 
with  the  hunting  leopard  is  conducted,  it  bears  a  close  resemblance 
to  the  ancient  sport  of  hawking,  so  prevalent  throughout  Europe 
in  the  days  of  feudal  tyranny,  but  scarcely  practised  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  except  by  the  more  splendid  slaves  of  Asiatic  despotism. 
The  animal  or  animals  —  for  occasionally  several  of  them  are  em- 
ployed at  the  same  time  — are  carried  to  the  field  in  low  chariots, 
on  which  they  are  kept  chained  and  hooded,  in  order  to  deprive 
them  of  the  power  and  temptation  to  leap  forth  before  the  ap- 
pointed time.  When  they  are  thus  brought  within  view  of  a  herd 
of  antelopes,  which  generally  consists  of  five  or  six  females  and  a 
male,  they  are  unchained  and  their  hoods  removed,  their  keepers 
directing  their  attention  to  the  prey,  which,  as  they  do  not  hunt  by 
smell,  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  have  constantly  in  sight. 
When  this  is  done,  the  animal  does  not  at  once  start  toward  the 
object  of  his  pursuit,  but,  seemingly  aware  that  he  would  have  no 
chance  of  overtaking  an  antelope,  winds  cautiously  along  the 
ground,  concealing  himself  as  much  as  possible;  and  when  he  has 
nearly  reached  the  unsuspecting  herd,  breaks  forth  upon  them  un- 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp      85 

eight  days,  of  which  only  three  had  expired.  The  ma- 
gician wanted  to  know  no  more.  He  resolved  at  once 
on  his  plans.  He  went  to  a  coppersmith,  and  asked  for 
a  dozen  copper  lamps ;  the  master  of  the  shop  told  him 
he  had  not  so  many  by  him,  but  if  he  would  have  pa- 
tience till  the  next  day,  he  would  have  them  ready.  The 
magician  appointed  his  time,  and  desired  him  to  take 
care  that  they  should  be  handsome  and  well  polished. 

The  next  day  the  magician  called  for  the  twelve  lamps, 
paid  the  man  his  full  price,  put  them  into  a  basket  hang- 
ing on  his  arm,  and  went  directly  to  Aladdin's  palace. 
As  he  approached,  he  began  crying,  "  Who  will  exchange 
old  lamps  for  new  ones?  "  As  he  went  along,  a  crowd  of 
children  collected,  who  hooted,  and  thought  him,  as  did 
all  who  chanced  to  be  passing  by,  a  madman  or  a  fool, 
to  offer  to  exchange  new  lamps  for  old  ones. 

The  African  magician  regarded  not  their  scoffs,  hoot- 
ings,  or  all  they  could  say  to  him,  but  still  continued 
crying,  "Who  will  exchange  old  lamps  for  new  ones?  " 
He  repeated  this  so  often,  walking  backward  and  forward 
in  front  of  the  palace,  that  the  princess,  who  was  then 
in  the  hall  with  the  four-and-twenty  windows,  hearing  a 
man  cry  something,  and  seeing  a  great  mob  crowding 

awares,  and  after  five  or  six  tremendous  bounds,  which  he  executes 
with  ahnost  incredible  velocity,  darts  at  once  upon  his  terrified 
victim,  strangles  him  in  an  instant,  and  takes  his  fill  of  blood.  In 
the  meanwhile  the  keeper  quietly  approaches  the  scene  of  slaugh- 
ter, caresses  the  successful  animal,  and  throws  to  him  pieces  of 
meat  to  amuse  him  and  keep  him  quiet,  while  he  blinds  him  with 
the  hood,  and  replaces  him  on  the  chariot,  to  which  he  is  again 
attached  by  his  chain.  But  if,  as  is  not  unfrequently  the  case,  the 
herd  should  have  taken  the  alarm,  and  the  chetah  should  prove 
unsuccessful,  he  never  attempts  to  pursue  them,  but  returns  to 
his  master  with  mortified  and  dejected  air,  to  be  again  let  slip 
at  a  fresh  quarry  whenever  a  fit  opportunity  occurs."  —  Tower 
Menagerie,  pp.  66,  67. 


86  Greatest  Short  Stories 

about  him,  sent  one  of  her  women  slaves  to  know  what 
he  cried. 

The  slave  returned,  laughing  so  heartily  that  the  prin- 
cess rebuked  her.  "  Madam,"  answered  the  slave,  laugh- 
ing still,  "  who  can  forbear  laughing,  to  see  an  old  man 
with  a  basket  on  his  arm,  full  of  fine  new  lamps,  asking 
to  exchange  them  for  old  ones?  The  children  and  mob 
crowding  about  him,  so  that  he  can  hardly  stir,  make  all 
the  noise  they  can  in  derision  of  him." 

Another  female  slave,  hearing  this,  said,  "  Now  you 
speak  of  lamps,  I  know  not  whether  the  princess  may 
have  observed  it,  but  there  is  an  old  one  upon  a  shelf  of 
the  Prince  Aladdin's  robing-room,  and  whoever  owns  it 
will  not  be  sorry  to  find  a  new  one  in  its  stead.  If  the 
princess  chooses,  she  may  have  the  pleasure  of  trying  if 
this  old  man  is  so  silly  as  to  give  a  new  lamp  for  an  old 
one,  without  taking  anything  for  the  exchange." 

The  princess,  who  knew  not  the  value  of  the  lamp 
and  the  interest  that  Aladdin  had  to  keep  it  safe,  entered 
into  the  pleasantry,  and  commanded  a  slave  to  take  it 
and  make  the  exchange.  The  slave  obeyed,  went  out 
of  the  hall,  and  no  sooner  got  to  the  palace  gates  than  he 
saw  the  African  magician,  called  to  him,  and  showing  him 
the  old  lamp,  said,  "  Give  me  a  new  lamp  for  this." 

The  magician  never  doubted  but  this  was  the  lamp  he 
wanted.  There  could  be  no  other  such  in  this  palace, 
where  every  utensil  was  gold  or  silver.  He  snatched 
it  eagerly  out  of  the  slave's  hand,  and  thrusting  it  as  far 
as  he  could  into  his  breast,  offered  him  his  basket,  and 
bade  him  choose  which  he  liked  best.  The  slave  picked 
out  one  and  carried  it  to  the  princess ;  but  the  exchange 
was  no  sooner  made  than  the  place  rang  with  the  shouts 
of  the  children,  deriding  the  magician's  folly. 

The  African  magician  stayed  no  longer  near  the  palace, 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     Sy 

nor  cried  any  more,  "  New  lamps  for  old  ones,"  but 
made  the  best  of  his  way  to  his  khan.  He  had  accom- 
pKshed  his  purpose,  and  by  his  silence  he  got  rid  of  the 
children  and  the  mob. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the  two  palaces,  he 
hastened  down  the  least-frequented  streets ;  and  having 
no  more  occasion  for  his  lamps  or  basket,  set  all  down 
in  a  spot  where  nobody  saw  him  ;  then  going  down  an- 
other street  or  two,  he  walked  till  he  came  to  one  of  the 
city  gates,  and  pursuing  his  way  through  the  suburbs, 
which  were  very  extensive,  at  length  reached  a  lonely  spot, 
where  he  stopped  till  the  darkness  of  the  night,  as  the 
most  suitable  time  for  the  design  he  had  in  contempla- 
tion. When  it  became  quite  dark,  he  pulled  the  lamp 
out  of  his  breast  and  rubbed  it.  At  that  summons  the 
genie  appeared,  and  said,  "  What  wouldst  thou  have  ?  I 
am  ready  to  obey  thee  as  thy  slave,  and  the  slave  of  all 
those  who  have  that  lamp  in  their  hands ;  both  I  and  the 
other  slaves  of  the  lamp."  "  I  command  thee,"  replied 
the  magician,  "  to  transport  me  immediately,  and  the 
palace  which  thou  and  the  other  slaves  of  the  lamp  have 
built  in  this  city,'  with  all  the  people  in  it,  to  Africa." 
The  genie  made  no  reply,  but  with  the  assistance  of  the 
other  genies,  the  slaves  of  the  lamp,  immediately  trans- 
ported him  and  the  palace,  entire,  to  the  spot  whither  he 
had  been  desired  to  convey  it. 

Early  the  next  morning,  when  the  sultan,  according 
to  custom,  went  to  contemplate  and  admire  Aladdin's 
palace,  his  amazement  was  unbounded  to  find  that  it 
could  nowhere  be  seen.  He  could  not  comprehend  how 
so  large  a  palace,  which  he  had  seen  plainly  every  day  for 
some  years,  should  vanish  so  soon  and  not  leave  the 
least  trace  behind.  In  his  perplexity  he  ordered  the 
grand  vizier  to  be  sent  for  with  expedition. 


88  Greatest  Short  Stories 

'riie  grand  vizier,  who,  in  secret,  bore  no  good  will  to 
Aladdin,  intimated  his  suspicion  that  the  palace  was  built 
by  magic,  and  tliat  Aladdin  had  made  his  hunting  excur- 
sion an  excuse  for  the  removal  of  his  palace  with  the 
same  suddenness  with  which  it  had  been  erected.  He 
induced  the  sultan  to  send  a  detachment  of  his  guard, 
and  to  have  Aladdin  seized  as  a  prisoner  of  state.  On 
his  son-in-law's  being  brought  before  him,  he  would  not 
hoar  a  word  from  him,  but  ordered  him  to  be  put  to 
death.  The  decree  caused  so  much  discontent  among 
the  people,  whose  affection  Aladdin  had  secured  by  his 
largesses  and  charities,  that  the  sultan,  fearful  of  an  in- 
surrection, was  obliged  to  grant  him  his  life.  When 
Aladdin  found  himself  at  liberty,  he  again  addressed  the 
sultan  :  "  Sire,  I  pray  you  to  let  me  know  the  crime  by 
which  I  have  thus  lost  the  favor  of  thy  countenance." 
"  Your  crime  !  "  answered  the  sultan,  "  wretched  man  ! 
do  you  not  know  it?  Follow  me,  and  I  will  show  you." 
The  sultan  then  took  Aladdin  into  the  apartment  from 
which  he  was  wont  to  look  at  and  admire  his  pal- 
ace, and  said,  "You  ought  to  know  where  your  palace 
stood ;  look,  mind,  and  tell  me  what  has  become  of  it." 
Aladdin  did  so,  and  being  utterly  amazed  at  the  loss  of 
his  palace,  was  speechless.  At  last  recovering  himself, 
he  said,  "  It  is  true,  I  do  not  see  the  palace.  It  is  van- 
ished ;  but  I  had  no  concern  in  its  removal.  I  beg  you 
to  give  me  forty  days,  and  if  in  that  time  I  cannot  restore 
it,  I  will  offer  my  head  to  be  disposed  of  at  your  pleas- 
ure." "  I  give  you  the  time  you  ask,  but  at  the  end  of 
forty  days,  forget  not  to  present  yourself  before  me." 

Aladdin  went  out  of  the  sultan's  palace  in  a  condition 
of  exceeding  humiliation.  The  lords  who  had  courted 
him  in  the  days  of  his  splendor,  now  declined  to  have 
any  communication  with  him.     For  three  days  he  wan- 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp     89 

dered  about  the  city,  exciting  the  wonder  and  compassion 
of  the  multitude  by  asking  everybody  he  met  if  he  had 
seen  his  palace,  or  could  tell  him  anything  of  it.  On 
the  third  day  he  wandered  into  the  country,  and  as  he 
was  approaching  a  river,  he  fell  down  the  bank  with  so 
much  violence  that  he  rubbed  the  ring  which  the  magician 
had  given  him  so  hard  by  holding  on  the  rock  to  save 
himself,  that  immediately  the  same  genie  appeared  whom 
he  had  seen  in  the  cave  where  the  magician  had  left  him. 
"  What  wouldst  thou  have  ?  "  said  the  genie,  "  I  am  ready 
to  obey  thee  as  thy  slave,  and  the  slave  of  all  those  that 
have  that  ring  on  their  finger ;  both  I  and  the  other 
slaves  of  the  ring." 

Aladdin,  agreeably  surprised  at  an  offer  of  help  so  little 
expected,  replied,  "  Genie,  show  me  where  the  palace  I 
caused  to  be  built  now  stands,  or  transport  it  back  where 
it  first  stood."  "  Your  command,"  answered  the  genie, 
"  is  not  wholly  in  my  power ;  I  am  only  the  slave  of  the 
ring,  and  not  of  the  lamp."  "  I  command  thee,  then," 
replied  Aladdin,  "  by  the  power  of  the  ring,  to  transport 
me  to  the  spot  where  my  palace  stands,  in  what  part  of 
the  world  soever  it  may  be."  These  words  were  no 
sooner  out  of  his  mouth,  than  the  genie  transported  him 
into  Africa,  to  the  midst  of  a  large  plain,  where  his  pal- 
ace stood,  at  no  great  distance  from  a  city,  and  placing 
him  exactly  under  the  window  of  the  princess's  apart- 
ment, left  him. 

Now  it  happened  that  shortly  after  Aladdin  had  been 
transported  by  the  slave  of  the  ring  to  the  neighborhood 
of  his  palace,  one  of  the  attendants  of  the  Princess 
Buddir  al  Buddoor,  looking  through  the  window,  per- 
ceived him  and  instantly  told  her  mistress.  The  princess, 
who  could  not  believe  the  joyful  tidings,  hastened  her- 
self to  the   window,  and  seeing  Aladdin,   immediately 


go  Greatest  Short  Stones 

opened  it.  The  noise  of  opening  the  window  made 
Aladdin  turn  his  head  that  way,  and  perceiving  the  prin- 
cess, he  sahited  her  with  an  air  that  expressed  his  joy. 
"  To  lose  no  time,"  said  she  to  him,  "  I  have  sent  to  have 
the  private  door  opened  for  you  ;  enter  and  come  up." 

The  private  door,  which  was  just  under  the  princess's 
apartment,  was  soon  opened  and  .Aladdin  conducted  up 
into  the  chamber.  It  is  impossible  to  express  the  joy  ot 
both  at  seeing  each  other  after  so  cruel  a  separation. 
After  embracing  and  shedding  tears  of  joy,  they  sat  down, 
and  Aladdin  said,  "  I  beg  of  you,  princess,  to  tell  me 
what  is  become  of  an  old  lamp  which  stood  upon  a  shelf 
in  my  robing-chamber." 

"  Alas  !  "  ansvvered  the  princess,  "  I  was  afraid  our 
misfortune  might  be  owing  to  that  lamp ;  and  what 
grieves  me  most  is,  that  I  have  been  the  cause  of  it.  I 
was  foolish  enough  to  exchange  the  old  lamp  for  a  new 
one,  and  the  next  morning  I  found  myself  in  this 
unknown  country,  which  I  am  told  is  Africa." 

"Princess,"  said  x^laddin,  interrupting  her,  "you  have 
explained  all  by  telling  me  we  are  in  Africa.  I  desire 
you  only  to  tell  me  if  you  know  where  the  old  lamp  now 
is."  "  The  African  magician  carries  it  carefully  wrapt 
up  in  his  bosom,"  said  the  princess ;  "  and  this  I  can 
assure  you,  because  he  pulled  it  out  before  me,  and 
showed  it  to  me  in  triumph." 

"  Princess,"  said  Aladdin,  "  I  think  I  have  found  the 
means  to  deliver  you  and  to  regain  possession  of  the  lamp, 
on  which  all  my  prosperity  depends ;  to  execute  this 
design,  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  go  to  the  town.  I  shall 
return  by  noon,  and  will  then  tell  you  what  must  be  done 
by  you  to  insure  success.  In  the  mean  time,  I  shall  dis- 
guise myself,  and  I  beg  that  the  private  door  may  be 
opened  at  the  first  knock." 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     91 

When  Aladdin  was  out  of  the  palace,  he  looked  round 
him  on  all  sides,  and  perceiving  a  peasant  going  into  the 
country,  hastened  after  him  ;  and  when  he  had  over- 
taken him,  made  a  proposal  to  him  to  exchange  clothes, 
which  the  man  agreed  to.  When  they  had  made  the 
exchange,  the  countryman  went  about  his  business,  and 
Aladdin  entered  the  neighboring  city.  After  traversing 
several  streets,  he  came  to  that  part  of  the  town  where 
the  merchants  and  artisans  had  their  particular  streets 
according  to  their  trades.^  He  went  into  that  of  the 
druggists ;  and  entering  one  of  the  largest  and  best  fur- 
nished shops,  asked  the  dniggist  if  he  had  a  certain 
powder,  which  he  named. 

The  druggist,  judging  Aladdin  by  his  habit  to  be  very 
poor,  told  him  he  had  it,  but  that  it  was  very  dear ;  upon 
winch  Aladdin,  penetrating  his  thoughts,  pulled  out  his 
purse,  and  showing  him  some  gold,  asked  for  half  a 
dram  of  the  powder ;  which  the  druggist  weighed  and 
gave  him,  telling  him  the  price  was  a  piece  of  gold. 
Aladdin  put  the  money  into  his  hand,  and  hastened  to 
the  palace,  which  he  entered  at  once  by  the  private 
door.  When  he  came  into  the  princess's  apartment,  he 
said  to  her,  "  Princess,  you  must  take  your  part  in  the 
scheme  which  I  propose  for  our  deliverance.  You  must 
overcome  your  aversion  to  the  magician,  and  assume  a 
most  friendly  manner  toward  him,  and  ask  him  to 
oblige  you  by  partaking  of  an  entertainment  in  your 
apartments.  Before  he  leaves,  ask  him  to  exchange 
cups  with  you,  which  he,  gratified  at  the  honor  you  do 
him,  will  gladly  do,  when  you  must  give  him  the  cup 

^This  location  of  persons  of  one  trade  in  one  part  of  a  town 
was  once  common  in  England.  Hence  the  "  Draper's  Lane  "  and 
"  Butcher's  Row,"  found  in  many  large  towns  ;  and  the  "  Old 
Jewry,"  "  Lombard  Street,"  and  "  Cheapside,"  of  London. 


92  Greatest  Short  Stories 

containing  this  powder.  On  drinking  it  he  will  instantly 
fall  asleep,  and  we  will  obtain  the  lamp,  whose  slaves 
will  do  all  our  bidding,  and  restore  us  and  the  palace  to 
the  capital  of  China." 

The  princess  obeyed  to  the  utmost  her  husband's 
instructions.  She  assumed  a  look  of  pleasure  on  the 
next  visit  of  the  magician,  and  asked  him  to  an  enter- 
tainment, an  invitation  which  he  most  willingly  accepted. 
At  the  close  of  the  evening,  during  which  the  princess 
had  tried  all  she  could  to  please  him,  she  asked  him 
to  exchange  cups  with  her,  and  giving  the  signal,  had 
the  drugged  cup  brought  to  her,  which  she  gave  to 
the  magician.  He  drank  it  out  of  compliment  to  the 
princess  to  the  very  last  drop,  when  he  fell  backward 
lifeless  on  the  sofa. 

The  princess,  in  anticipation  of  the  success  of  her 
scheme,  had  so  placed  her  women  from  the  great  hall 
to  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  that  the  word  was  no  sooner 
given  that  the  African  magician  was  fallen  backward, 
than  the  door  was  opened,  and  Aladdin  admitted  to  the 
hall.  The  princess  rose  from  her  seat,  and  ran,  over- 
joyed, to  embrace  him ;  but  he  stopped  her,  and  said, 
"  Princess,  retire  to  your  apartment ;  and  let  me  be  left 
alone,  while  I  endeavor  to  transport  you  back  to  China 
as  speedily  as  you  were  brought  from  thence." 

When  the  princess,  her  women,  and  slaves  were  gone 
out  of  the  hall,  Aladdin  shut  the  door,  and  going  directly 
to  the  dead  body  of  the  magician,  opened  his  vest,  took 
out  the  lamp  which  was  carefully  wrapped  up ;  and 
when  he  rubbed  it,  the  genie  immediately  appeared. 
"Genie,"  said  Aladdin,  "I  command  thee  to  transport 
this  palace  instantly  to  the  place  whence  it  was  brought 
hither."  The  genie  bowed  his  head  in  token  of  obedi- 
ence,  and  disappeared.     Immediately  the   palace   was 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     93 

transported  into  China,  and  its  removal  was  only  felt  by 
two  little  shocks,  the  one  when  it  was  lifted  up,  the 
other  when  it  was  set  down,  and  both  in  a  very  short 
interval  of  time. 

On  the  morning  after  the  restoration  of  Aladdin's 
palace,  the  sultan  was  looking  out  of  his  window  and 
mourning  over  the  fate  of  his  daughter,  when  he  thought 
that  he  saw  the  vacancy  created  by  the  disappearance  of 
the  palace  to  be  again  filled  up. 

On  looking  more  attentively,  he  was  convinced 
beyond  the  power  of  doubt  that  it  was  his  son-in-law's 
palace.  Joy  and  gladness  succeeded  to  sorrow  and 
grief  He  at  once  ordered  a  horse  to  be  saddled,  which 
he  mounted  that  instant,  thinking  he  could  not  make 
haste  enough  to  the  place. 

Aladdin  rose  that  morning  by  daybreak,  put  on  one 
of  the  most  magnificent  habits  his  wardrobe  afforded, 
and  went  up  into  the  hall  of  twenty-four  windows, 
from  which  he  perceived  the  sultan  approaching,  and 
received  him  at  the  foot  of  the  great  staircase,  helping 
him  to  dismount. 

He  led  the  sultan  into  the  princess's  apartment.  The 
happy  father  embraced  his  daughter  with  tears  of  joy  ;  and 
the  princess,  on  her  side,  afforded  similar  testimonies  of 
her  extreme  pleasure.  After  a  short  interval,  devoted  to 
mutual  explanations  of  all  that  had  happened,  the  sultan 
restored  Aladdin  to  his  favor,  and  expressed  his  regret 
for  the  apparent  harshness  with  which  he  had  treated 
him.  "  My  son,"  said  he,  "  be  not  displeased  at  my 
proceedings  against  you  ;  they  arose  from  my  paternal 
love,  and  therefore  you  ought  to  forgive  the  excesses 
to  which  it  hurried  me."  "  Sire,"  replied  Aladdin,  "  I 
have  not  the  least  reason  to  complain  of  your  conduct, 
since    you  did  nothing  but  what   your    duty  required. 


94  Greatest  Short  Stones 

This  infamous  magician,  the  basest  of  men,  was  the  sole 
cause  of  my  misfortune." 

The  African  magician,  who  was  thus  twice  foiled  in 
his  endeavor  to  ruin  Aladdin,  had  a  younger  brother, 
who  was  as  skilful  a  magician  as  himself,  and  exceeded 
him  in  wickedness  and  hatred  of  mankind.  By  mutual 
agreement  they  communicated  with  each  other  once  a 
year,  however  widely  separate  might  be  their  places  of 
residence  from  each  other.  The  younger  brother  not 
having  received  as  usual  his  annual  communication, 
prepared  to  take  a  horoscope  and  ascertain  his  brother's 
proceedings.  He,  as  well  as  his  brother,  always  carried 
a  geomantic  square  instrument  about  him.  He  prepared 
the  sand,^  cast  the  points,  and  drew  the  figures.  On 
examining  the  planetary  crystal,  he  found  that  his 
brother  was  no  longer  living,  but  had  been  poisoned ; 
and  by  another  observation,  that  he  was  in  the  capital 
of  the  kingdom  of  China ;  also,  that  the  person  whcj  had 
poisoned  him  was  of  mean  birth,  though  married  to  a 
princess,  a  sultan's  daughter. 

When  the  magician  had  informed  himself  of  his 
brother's  fate,  he  resolved  immediately  to  revenge  his 
death,  and  at  once  departed  for  China ;  where,  after 
crossing  plains,  rivers,  mountains,  deserts,  and  a  long 
tract  of  country  without  delay,  he  arrived  after  incredible 
fatigues.  When  he  came  to  the  capital  of  China,  he 
took  a  lodging  at  a  khan.  His  magic  art  soon  revealed 
to  him  that  Aladdin  was  the  person  who  had  been  the 

1  Reml  or  Rami  signifies  "  sand  prepared,"  or  a  preparation  of 
sand  on  which  are  marked  certain  figures  serving  for  a  kind  of 
divination,  which  we  call  Geomancy,  and  the  Arabs  and  Turks 
Kikmut  al  Reml.  These,  disposed  in  a  certain  number  on  many 
unequal  lines,  are  described  also  with  a  pen  on  paper ;  and  the 
person  who  practises  divination  by  this  art  is  called  Rammal.  — 
D'Herbelot,  art.  Rami. 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp      95 

cause  of  the  death  of  his  brother.  He  had  heard,  too, 
all  the  persons  of  repute  in  the  city  talking  of  a  woman 
called  Fatima,  who  was  retired  from  the  world,  and  of 
the  miracles  she  wrought.  As  he  fancied  that  this 
woman  might  be  serviceable  to  him  in  the  project  he 
had  conceived,  he  made  more  minute  inquiries,  and 
requested  to  be  informed  more  particularly  who  that 
holy  woman  was,  and  what  sort  of  miracles  she 
performed. 

"  What !  "  said  the  person  whom  he  addressed,  "  have 
you  never  seen  or  heard  of  her?  She  is  the  admiration 
of  the  whole  town,  for  her  fasting,  her  austerities,  and 
her  exemplary  life.  Except  Mondays  and  Fridays,  she 
never  stirs  out  of  her  little  cell ;  and  on  those  days  on 
which  she  comes  into  the  town  she  does  an  infinite  deal 
of  good  :  for  there  is  not  a  person  who  is  diseased  but 
she  puts  her  hand  on  him  and  cures  him." 

Having  ascertained  the  place  where  the  hermitage  of 
this  holy  woman  was,  the  magician  went  at  night,  and 
plunging  a  poniard  into  her  heart,  killed  this  good 
woman.  In  the  morning  he  dyed  his  face  of  the  same 
hue  as  hers,  and  arraying  himself  in  her  garb,  taking 
her  veil,  the  large  necklace  she  wore  round  her 
waist,  and  her  stick,  went  straight  to  the  palace  of 
Aladdin. 

As  soon  as  the  j)eopIe  saw  the  holy  woman,  as  they 
imagined  him  to  be,  they  presently  gathered  about  him 
in  a  great  crowd.  Some  begged  his  blessing,  others 
kissed  his  hand,  and  others,  more  reserved,  only  the  hem 
of  his  garment ;  while  others,  suffering  from  disease, 
stooped  for  him  to  lay  his  hands  upon  them ;  which  he 
did,  muttering  some  words  in  form  of  prayer,  and,  in 
short,  counterfeiting  so  well,  that  everybody  took  him 
for  the   holy  woman.     He  came  at  last  to  the  square 


96  Greatest  Short  Stories 

before  Aladdin's  palace.  The  crowd  and  the  noise 
were  so  great  that  the  princess,  who  was  in  the  hall  of 
four-and-twenty  windows,  heard  it,  and  asked  what  was 
the  matter.  One  of  her  women  told  her  it  was  a  great 
crowd  of  people  collected  about  the  holy  woman  to  be 
cured  of  diseases  by  the  imposition  of  her  hands. 

The  princess,  who  had  long  heard  of  this  holy  woman, 
but  had  never  seen  her,  was  very  desirous  to  have  some 
conversation  with  her ;  perceiving  which,  the  chief  officer 
told  her  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  bring  the  woman  to  her, 
if  she  desired  and  commanded  it ;  and  the  princess  ex- 
pressing her  wishes,  he  immediately  sent  four  slaves  for 
the  pretended  holy  woman. 

As  soon  as  the  crowd  saw  the  attendants  from  the 
palace,  they  made  way ;  and  the  magician,  perceiving 
also  that  they  were  coming  for  him,  advanced  to  meet 
them,  overjoyed  to  find  his  plot  succeed  so  well.  "  Holy 
woman,"  said  one  of  the  slaves,  "  the  princess  wants  to 
see  you,  and  has  sent  us  for  you."  "  The  princess  does 
me  too  great  an  honor,"  replied  the  false  Fatima ;  "I 
am  ready  to  obey  her  command,"  and  at  the  same  time 
followed  the  slaves  to  the  palace. 

When  the  pretended  Fatima  had  made  her  obeisance, 
the  princess  said,  "  My  good  mother,  I  have  one  thing 
to  request,  which  you  must  not  refuse  me ;  it  is,  to  stay 
with  me,  that  you  may  edify  me  with  your  way  of  living, 
and  that  I  may  learn  from  your  good  example."  "  Prin- 
cess," said  the  counterfeit  Fatima,  "  I  beg  of  you  not  to 
ask  what  I  cannot  consent  to  without  neglecting  my 
prayers  and  devotion."  "That  shall  be  no  hindrance  to 
you,"  answered  the  princess ;  "  I  have  a  great  many 
apartments  unoccupied ;  you  shall  choose  which  you  like 
best,  and  have  as  much  hberty  to  perform  your  devotions 
as  if  you  were  in  your  own  cell." 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     97 

The  magician,  who  really  desired  nothing  more  than 
to  introduce  himself  into  the  palace,  where  it  would  be 
a  much  easier  matter  for  him  to  execute  his  designs,  did 
not  long  excuse  himself  from  accepting  the  obliging 
offer  which  the  princess  made  him.  "  Princess,"  said 
he,  "  whatever  resolution  a  poor  wretched  woman  as 
I  am  may  have  made  to  renounce  the  pomp  and 
grandeur  of  this  world,  I  dare  not  presume  to  oppose 
the  will  and  commands  of  so  pious  and  charitable  a 
princess." 

Upon  this  the  princess,  rising  up,  said,  "Come  with 
me,  I  will  show  you  what  vacant  apartments  I  have,  that 
you  may  make  choice  of  that  you  like  best."  The  magi- 
cian followed  the  princess,  and  of  all  the  apartments 
she  showed  him,  made  choice  of  that  which  was  the 
worst,  saying  that  was  too  good  for  him,  and  that  he 
only  accepted  it  to  please  her. 

Afterward  the  princess  would  have  brought  him  back 
again  into  the  great  hall  to  make  him  dine  with  her ;  but 
he,  considering  that  he  should  then  be  obliged  to  show 
his  face,  which  he  had  always  taken  care  to  conceal  with 
Fatima's  veil,  and  fearing  that  the  princess  should  find 
out  that  he  was  not  Fatima,  begged  of  her  earnestly  to 
excuse  him,  telling  her  that  he  never  ate  anything  but 
bread  and  dried  fruits,  and  desired  to  eat  that  slight 
repast  in  his  own  j^partment.  The  princess  granted  his 
request,  saying,  "  You  may  be  as  free  here,  good  mother, 
as  if  you  were  in  your  own  cell :  I  will  order  you  a 
dinner,  but  remember  I  expect  you  as  soon  as  you  have 
finished  your  repast." 

After  the  princess  had  dined,  and  the  false  Fatima 
had  been  sent  for  by  one  of  the  attendants,  he  again 
waited  upon  her.  "  My  good  mother,"  said  the  prin- 
cess, "  I  am  overjoyed  to  see  so  holy  a  woman  as  your- 

•7 


98  Greatest  Short  Stories 

self,  who  will  confer  a  blessing  upon  this  palace.  But 
now  I  am  speaking  of  the  palace,  pray  how  do  you  like 
it?  And  before  I  show  it  all  to  you,  tell  me  first  what 
you  think  of  this  hall." 

Upon  this  question,  the  counterfeit  Fatima  surveyed 
the  hall  from  one  end  to  the  other.  When  he  had 
examined  it  well,  he  said  to  the  princess,  "As  far  as 
such  a  solitary  being  as  I  am,  who  am  unacquainted  with 
what  the  world  calls  beautiful,  can  judge,  this  hall  is  truly 
admirable  ;  there  wants  but  one  thing."  "  What  is  that, 
good  mother?"  demanded  the  princess;  "tell  me,  I 
conjure  you.  For  my  part,  I  always  believed,  and  have 
heard  say,  it  wanted  nothing ;  but  if  it  does,  it  shall  be 
supplied." 

"  Princess,"  said  the  false  Fatima,  with  great  dissimu- 
lation, "  forgive  me  the  liberty  I  have  taken  ;  but  my 
opinion  is,  if  it  can  be  of  any  importance,  that  if  a 
roc's  egg  were  hung  up  in  the  middle  of  the  dome,  this 
hall  would  have  no  parallel  in  the  four  quarters  of  the 
world,  and  your  palace  would  be  the  wonder  of  the  uni- 
verse." 

"  My  good  mother,"  said  the  princess,  "  what  is  a 
roc,  and  where  may  one  get  an  egg?"  "Princess," 
replied  the  pretended  Fatima,  "it  is  a  bird  of  prodi- 
gious size,  which  inhabits  the  summit  of  Mount  Cau- 
casus ;  the  architect  who  built  your  palace  can  get 
you  one." 

After  the  princess  had  thanked  the  false  Fatima  for 
what  she  believed  her  good  advice,  she  conversed  with 
her  upon  other  matters ;  but  could  not  forget  the  roc's 
egg,  which  she  resolved  to  request  of  Aladdin  when  next 
he  should  visit  his  apartments.  He  did  so  in  the  course 
of  that  evening,  and  shortly  after  he  entered,  the  prin- 
cess thus  addressed  him  :   "  I  always  believed  that  our 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful   Lamp     99 

palace  was  the  most  superb,  magnificent,  and  complete 
in  the  world  :  but  I  will  tell  you  now  what  it  wants,  and 
that  is  a  roc's  egg  hung  up  in  the  midst  of  the  dome." 
"  Princess,"  replied  Aladdin,  "  it  is  enough  that  you 
think  it  wants  such  an  ornament ;  you  shall  see  by  the 
diligence  which  I  use  in  obtaining  it,  that  there  is  nothing 
which  I  would  not  do  for  your  sake." 

Aladdin  left  the  Princess  Buddir  al  Buddoor  that 
moment,  and  went  up  into  the  hall  of  four-and-twenty 
windows,  where,  pulling  out  of  his  bosom  the  lamp,  which 
after  the  danger  he  had  been  exposed  to  he  always 
carried  about  him,  he  rubbed  it ;  upon  which  the  genie 
immediately  appeared.  "  Genie,"  said  Aladdin,  "  I 
command  thee,  in  the  name  of  this  lamp,  bring  a  roc's 
egg  to  be  hung  up  in  the  middle  of  the  dome  of  the  hall 
of  the  palace."  Aladdin  had  no  sooner  pronounced 
these  words,  than  the  hall  shook  as  if  ready  to  fall ;  and 
the  genie  said  in  a  loud  and  terrible  voice,  "  Is  it  not 
enough  that  I  and  the  other  slaves  of  the  lamp  have 
done  everything  for  you,  but  you,  by  an  unheard-of 
ingratitude,  must  command  me  to  bring  my  master,  and 
hang  him  up  in  the  midst  of  this  dome  ?  This  attempt 
deserves  that  you,  the  princess,  and  the  palace,  should 
be  immediately  reduced  to  ashes;  but  you  are  spared 
because  this  request  does  not  come  from  yourself.  Its 
true  author  is  the  brother  of  the  African  magician,  your 
enemy  whom  you  have  destroyed.  He  is  now  in  your 
palace,  disguised  in  the  habit  of  the  holy  woman  Fatima, 
whom  he  has  murdered ;  at  his  suggestion  your  wife 
makes  this  pernicious  demand.  His  design  is  to  kill 
you,  therefore  take  care  of  yourself."  After  these  words 
the  genie  disappeared. 

Aladdin  resolved  at  once  what  to  do.  He  returned 
to  the  princess's  apartment,  and  without  mentioning  a 


loo  Greatest  Short  Stories 

word  of  what  had  happened,  sat  down,  and  complained 
of  a  great  pain  which  had  suddenly  seized  his  head.  On 
hearing  this,  the  princess  told  him  how  she  had  invited 
the  holy  Fatima  to  stay  with  her,  and  that  she  was  now 
in  the  palace ;  and  at  the  request  of  the  prince,  or- 
dered  her  to  be  summoned  at  once. 

When  the  pretended  Fatima  came,  Aladdin  said, 
"  Come  hither,  good  mother ;  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here 
at  so  fortunate  a  time.  I  am  tormented  with  a  violent 
pain  in  my  head,  and  request  your  assistance,  and  hope 
you  will  not  refuse  me  that  cure  which  you  impart  to 
afflicted  persons."  So  saying,  he  arose,  but  held  down 
his  head.  The  counterfeit  Fatima  advanced  toward 
him,  with  his  hand  all  the  time  on  a  dagger  concealed  in 
his  girdle  under  his  gown ;  which  Aladdin  observing,  he 
snatched  the  weapon  from  his  hand,  pierced  him  to  the 
heart  with  his  own  dagger,  and  then  pushed  him  down 
on  the  floor. 

"My  dear  prince,  what  have  you  done?"  cried  the 
princess,  in  surprise.  "You  have  killed  the  holy 
woman  !  "  "  No,  my  princess,"  answered  Aladdin,  with 
emotion,  "I  have  not  killed  Fatima,  but  a  villain  who 
would  have  assassinated  me  if  I  had  not  prevented  him. 
This  wicked  man,"  added  he,  uncovering  his  face,  "is 
the  brother  of  the  magician  who  attempted  our  ruin. 
He  has  strangled  the  true  Fatima,  and  disguised  himself 
in  her  clothes  with  intent  to  murder  me."  Aladdin  then 
informed  her  how  the  genie  had  told  him  these  facts, 
and  how  narrowly  she  and  the  palace  had  escaped  de- 
struction through  his  treacherous  suggestion  which  had 
led  to  her  request. 

Thus  was  Aladdin  delivered  from  the  persecution  of 
the  two  brothers,  who  were  magicians.  Within  a  few 
years  afterward,  the   sultan   died   in   a  good    old   age, 


Aladdin,  or  The  Wonderful  Lamp     loi 

and  as  he  left  no  male  children,  the  Princess  Buddir  al 
Buddoor  succeeded  him,  and  she  and  Aladdin  reigned 
together  many  years,  and  left  a  numerous  and  illustrious 
posterity. 

Note.  — In  regard  to  the  art  with  which  this  story  is  constructed, 
let  us  note  one  or  two  points.  First,  though  we  get  an  impression 
of  boundless  power,  a  perfect  riot  of  possibility,  on  examination  we 
are  struck  with  the  restraint  shown  by  Aladdin.  He  really  does  . 
but  one  thing,  namely,  woo  and  win  the  princess,  and  he  makes  use 
of  the  lamp  only  to  attain  and  keep  her.  Before  he  sees  her  he 
seems  to  think  of  nothing  more  than  to  get  food  for  himself  and 
his  mother.  After  he  has  obtained  the  princess  and  built  his 
palace,  we  may  almost  imagine  he  never  so  much  as  calls  up  his 
genie  till  it  is  absolutely  necessary  in  order  to  protect  himself. 
Many  a  man  in  history  has  risen  by  perfectly  natural  means  from 
a  position  of  humble  birth  to  rule  an  empire,  and,  like  Aladdin,  he 
has  in  so  doing  put  off  the  manners  of  a  peasant  and  taken  on 
those  of  a  king.  Second,  we  know  that  every  rise  to  power 
creates  enemies,  who  are  typified  in  the  magician  and  his  brother. 
Doubtless  Aladdin  did  not  appreciate  all  his  good  fortune  till  he 
had  lost  it  and  was  threatened  with  the  loss  of  his  head  also. 
Third,  all  power  has  its  limit,  and  in  this  story  that  truth  is  illus- 
trated by  the  discovery  that  even  the  genie  of  the  lamp,  all  power- 
ful as  he  seems  to  be,  has  his  master,  the  mysterious  roc.  Had 
Aladdin  been  foolish  enough,  in  a  fit  of  vanity,  to  insist  on  having 
the  roc's  egg,  we  can  imagine  his  complete  and  final  downfall ; 
but  as  soon  as  he  learns  the  truth  he  abandons  his  request,  as 
any  wise  person  would  do.  —  Editor.  ^  i     ' 


l^'V 


Ill 

RIP   VAN    WINKLE 


A 


> 


RIP    VAN    WINKLE 

By   WASHINGTON   IRVING  r       . 

INTRODUCTORY 

WHAT   THE    SHORT    STORY    OWES    TO    THE 
ESSAY 

THAT  intangible  something  known  as 
"  prose  style "  was  a  contribution  to 
English  literature  made  by  the  essayists, 
whose  art  rose  with  Addison,  Steele,  Swift,  Gold- 
smith, and  Johnson,  reached  its  climax  in  Lamb, 
with  special  developments  in  Macaulay  and  De 
Quincey,  and  has  since  sunk  into  desuetude.  Most 
readers  know  the  stories  of  the  "  Decameron  "  and 
the  "  Arabian  Nights  "  only  in  translations,  in  which 
any  beauties  of  language  in  the  originals  may  be 
supposed  to  have  been  partly  lost;  but  it  may  be 
observed  that  in  neither  do  we  have  so  much  as  a 
single  line  of  description,  either  of  scenes  or  of 
characters.  The  facts  are  stated  without  embellish- 
ment, and  the  characters  are  known  only  by  their 
actions.  All  the  wonders  of  Aladdin's  palace  do 
not  so  much  as  excite  a  single  metaphor  or  an 
ejaculation  of  surprise.  Both  stories  are  the  pur- 
est possible  types  of  simple  narrative. 

In  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  we  have  a  modern  Ara- 
bian   Nights   wonder   story,    but  it    is  splendidly 


io6  Greatest  Short  Stories 

clothed  with  all  the  art  of  one  of  the  most  ac- 
complished of  the  essayists.  It  has  description, 
it  has  humor,  it  has  character-drawing,  all  lacking 
in  the  earlier  stories ;  and  at  the  same  time  the 
actual  wonders  shrink  almost  to  insignificance 
beside  those  of  Aladdin's  lamp.  All  the  essay- 
writers  who  were  really  contributors  to  the  de- 
velopment of  the  language  were  also  more  or  less 
story-writers,  —  Addison,  with  his  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverly;  Swift,  with  his  Gulliver;  Lamb,  with 
his  story  of  the  origin  of  roast  pig.  Emerson 
and  Carlyle,  who  were  great  philosophers,  but  in 
no  sense  story-writers,  made  little  or  no  contribu- 
tion to  English  style. 

As  the  powers  of  fiction  expanded,  it  absorbed 
not  only  the  best  in  the  art  of  the  essayist,  but  also 
much  that  had  before  belonged  to  poetry;  and  as 
fiction  has  grown,  poetry  has  dwindled.  The  be- 
ginning of  both  these  tendencies  we  find  in  "  Rip 
Van  Winkle,"  not  in  the  construction  and  develop- 
ment of  the  story,  but  in  the  language  with  which 
the  plot  is  clothed.  The  words  flow  in  melodious 
rhythm  ;  the  whimsicalities  and  light,  pleasing  fan- 
cies of  the  essayists  appear  at  every  turn,  and  we 
also  note  the  touches  of  poetic  beauty  in  descrip- 
tions of  the  mountains  which  no  mere  essayist 
would  venture  upon.  Here  we  have  in  concrete 
form  the  progress  in  story-writing  of  a  hundred 
years  (following  the  appearance  in  English  of 
the  Arabian    Nights),  bringing   us   down   to   the 


Rip  Van  Winkle  107 

time  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whose  influence  on 
the  novel  (but  not  on  the  short  story)  was  so 
revolutionary. 


RIP  VAN   WINKLE 

A  POSTHUMOUS   WRITING   OF   DIEDRICH 
KNICKERBOCKER 

By  Woden,  God  of  Saxons, 

From  whence  comes  Wensday,  that  is  Wodensday, 

Truth  is  a  thing  that  ever  I  will  keep 

Unto  thylke  day  in  which  I  creep  into 

My  sepulchre ■  Cartwright 

[The  following  Tale  was  found  among  the  papers  of  the  late 
Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  an  old  gentleman  of  New  York,  who 
was  very  curious  in  the  Dutch  history  of  the  province,  and  the 
manners  of  the  descendants  from  its  primitive  settlers.  His 
historical  researches,  however,  did  not  lie  so  much  among  booka 
as  among  men ;  for  the  former  are  lamentably  scanty  on  his  favo- 
rite topics ;  whereas  he  found  the  old  burghers,  and  still  more 
their  wives,  rich  in  that  legendary  lore  so  invaluable  to  true  his- 
tory. Whenever,  therefore,  he  happened  upon  a  genuine  Dutch 
family,  snugly  shut  up  in  its  low-roofed  farmhouse,  under  a  spread- 
ing sycamore,  he  looked  upon  it  as  a  little  clasped  volume  of  black- 
letter,  and  studied  it  with  the  zeal  of  a  book-worm. 

The  result  of  all  these  researches  was  a  history  of  the  province 
during  the  reign  of  the  Dutch  governors,  which  he  published  some 
years  since.  There  have  been  various  opinions  as  to  the  literary 
character  of  his  work,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  it  is  not  a  whit  better 
than  it  should  be.  Its  chief  merit  is  its  scrupulous  accuracy, 
which  indeed  was  a  little  questioned  on  its  first  appearance,  but 
has  since  been  completely  established  ;  and  it  is  now  admitted 
into  all  historical  collections  as  a  book  of  unquestionable 
authority. 

The  old  gentleman  died  shortly  after  the  publication  of  his  work ; 
and  now  that  he  is  dead  and  gone,  it  cannot  do  much  harm  to  his 
memory  to  say  that  his  time  might  have  been  much  better 
employed  in  weightier  labors.     He,  however,  was  apt  to  ride  his 


io8  Greatest  Short  Stories  ,.  ^ 

hobby  his  own  way ;  and  though  it  did  now  and  then  kick  up  the 
dust  a  little  in  the  eyes  of  his  neighbors,  and  grieve  the  spirit  of  ..  *■ 
some  friends,  for  whom  he  felt  the  truest  deference  and  affection,  ^ 
yet  his  errors  and  follies  are  remembered  "more  in  sorrow  than\ 
in  anger,"  and  it  begins  to  be  suspected  that  he  never  intended  to 
injure  or  offend.  But  however  his  memory  may  be  appreciated  by 
critics,  it  is  still  held  dear  by  many  folk  whose  good  opinion  is 
well  worth  having;  particularly  by  certain  biscuit-bakers,  who 
have  gone  so  far  as  to  imprint  his  likeness  on  their  New-Year 
cakes;  and  have  thus  given  him  a  chance  for  immortality,  almo.st  ^ 
equal  to  the  being  stamped  on  a  Waterloo  Medal,  or  a  Queen 
Anne's  Farthing.] 

WHOEVER  has  made  a  voyage  up  the  HudsoiivS; 
must  remember  the  Kaatskill  mountains.  They  /^ 
are  a  dismembered  branch  of  the  great  Appalachian 
family,  and  are  seen  away  to  the  west  of  the  river,  swelling 
up  to  a  noble  height,  and  lording  it  over  the  surround- 
ing country.  Every  change  of  season,  every  change  of 
weather,  indeed,  every  hour  of  the  day,  produces  some 
change  in  the  magical  hues  and  shapes  of  these  moun- 
tains, and  they  are  regarded  by  all  the  good  wives,  far 
and  near,  as  perfect  barometers.  When  the  weather  is 
fair  and  settled,  they  are  clothed  in  blue  and  purple, 
and  print  their  bold  outlines  on  the  clear  evening  sky ; 
but  sometimes,  when  the  rest  of  the  landscape  is  cloud- 
less, they  will  gather  a  hood  of  gray  vapors  about  their 
summits,  which,  in  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  will 
glow  and  light  up  like  a  crown  of  glory. 

At  the  foot  of  these  fairy  mountains,  the  voyager  may 
have  descried  the  light  smoke  curling  up  from  a  village, 
whose  shingle-roofs  gleam  among  the  trees,  just  where 
the  blue  tints  of  the  upland  melt  away  into  the  fresh 
green  of  the  nearer  landscape.  It  is  a  little  village,  of 
great  antiquity,  having  been  founded  by  some  of  the 
Dutch  colonists  in  the  early  times  of  the  province,  just 
about  the  beginning  of  the  government  of  the  good  Peter 


Rip  Van  Winkle  109 

Stuyvesant  (may  he  rest  in  peace!),  and  there  were 
some  of  the  houses  of  the  original  settlers  standing 
within  a  few  years,  built  of  small  yellow  bricks  brought 
from  Holland,  having  latticed  windows  and  gable  fronts, 
surmounted  with  weathercocks. 

In  that  same  village,  and  in  one  of  these  very  houses 
(which,  to  tell  the  precise  truth,  was  sadly  time-worn 
and  weather-beaten),  there  lived,  many  years  since, 
while  the  country  was  yet  a  province  of  Great  Britain,  a 
simple,  good-natured  fellow,  of  the  name  of  Rip  Van 
Winkle.  He  was  a  descendant  of  the  Van  Winkles  who 
figured  so  gallantly  in  the  chivalrous  days  of  Peter  Stuy- 
vesant, and  accompanied  him  to  the  siege  of  Fort  Chris- 
tina. He  inherited,  however,  but  little  of  the  martial 
character  of  his  ancestors.  I  have  observed  that  he  was 
a  simple,  good-natured  man ;  he  was,  moreover,  a  kind 
neighbor,  and  an  obedient,  hen-pecked  husband.  Indeed, 
to  the  latter  circumstance  might  be  owing  that  meekness 
of  spirit  which  gained  him  such  universal  popularity  ;  for 
those  men  are  most  apt  to  be  obsequious  and  conciliat- 
ing abroad,  who  are  under  the  discipline  of  shrews  at 
home.  -Their  tempers,^  doubtless,^  are  rendered  pliant 
and  malleable  in  the  fiery  furnace  of  domestic  tribulation  ; 
and  a  curtain-lecture  is  worth  all  the  sermons  in  the 
world  for  teaching  the^-^  virtues  of  patience  and  long- 
suffering.  A  tejnia'gaht  wife  may,  therefore,  in  some 
respects,  be  considered  a  tolerable  blessing ;  and  if  so. 
Rip  Van  Winkle  was  thrice  blessed. 

Certain  it  is,  that  he  was  a  great  favorite  among  all 
the  good  wives  of  the  village,  who,  as  usual  with  the 
'  amiable  sex,  took  his  part  in  all  family  squabbles ;  and 
never  failed,  whenever  they  talked  those  matters  over  in 
their  evening  gossipings,  to  lay  all  the  blame  on  Dame 
Van  Winkle.     The  children  of  the  village,  too,  would 


no  Greatest  Short  Stories 

shout  with  joy  whenever  he  approached.  He  assisted 
at  their  sports,  made  their  playthings,  taught  them  to  fly 
kites  and  shoot  marbles,  and  told  them  long  stories  of 
ghosts,  witches,  and  Indians.  Whenever  he  went  dodg- 
ing about  the  village,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  troop  of 
them,  hanging  on  his  skirts,  clambering  on  his  back,  and 
playing  a  thousand  tricks  on  him  with  impunity ;  and  not 
a  dog  would  bark  at  him  throughout  the  neighborhood. 

The  great  error  in  Rip's  composition  was  an  insupera- 
ble aversion  to  all  kinds  of  profitable  labor.  It  could 
not  be  from  the  want  of  assiduity  or  perseverance ;  for 
he  would  sit  on  a  wet  rock,  with  a  rod  as  long  and  heavy 
as  a  Tartar's  lance,  and  fish  all  day  without  a  murmur, 
even  though  he  should  not  be  encouraged  by  a  single 
nibble.  He  would  carry  a  fowling-piece  on  his  shoulder 
for  hours  together,  trudging  through  woods  and  swamps, 
and  up  hill  and  down  dale,  to  shoot  a  few  squirrels  or 
wild  pigeons.  He  would  never  refuse  to  assist  a  neighbor 
even  in  the  roughest  toil,  and  was  a  foremost  man  at  all 
country  frolics  for  husking  Indian  corn,  or  building  stone 
fences ;  the  women  of  the  village,  too,  used  to  employ 
him  to  run  their  errands,  and  do  such  little  odd  jobs  as 
their  less  obliging  husbands  would  not  do  for  them.  In 
a  word,  Rip  was  ready  to  attend  to  anybody's  business 
but  his  own ;  but  as  to  doing  family  duty,  and  keeping 
his  farm  in  order,  he  found  it  impossible. 

In  fact,  he  declared  it  was  of  no  use  to  work  on  his 
farm  ;  it  was  the  most  pestilent  little  piece  of  ground 
in  the  whole  country ;  everything  about  it  went  wrong, 
and  would  go  wrong,  in  spite  of  him.  His  fences  were 
continually  falling  to  pieces ;  his  cow  would  either  go 
astray,  or  get  among  the  cabbages ;  weeds  were  sure 
to  grow  quicker  in  his  fields  than  anywhere  else ;  the 
rain  always  made  a  point  of  setting  in  just  as  he  had 


Rip  Van  Winkle  1 1 1 

some  out- door  work  to  do  ;  so  that  though  his  patrimonial 
estate  had  dwindled  away  under  his  management,  acre  by 
acre,  until  there  was  little  more  left  than  a  mere  patch  of 
Iridian  corn  and  potatoes,  yet  it  was  the  worst  conditioned 
farm  in  the  neighborhood. 

His  children,  too,  were  as  ragged  and  wild  as  if  they 
belonged  to  nobody.  His  son  Rip,  an  urchin  begotten 
in  his  own  likeness,  promised  to  inherit  the  habits,  with 
the  old  clothes,  of  his  father.  He  was  generally  seen 
trooping  like  a  colt  at  his  mother's  heels,  equipped  in  a 
pair  of  his  father's  cast-of  galligaskins,  which  he  had 
much  ado  to  hold  up  with  one  hand,  as  a  fine  lady  does 
her  train  in  bad  weather. 

Rip  Van  Winkle,  however,  was  one  of  those  happy 
mortals,  of  foolish,  well-oiled  dispositions,  who  take  the 
world  easy,  eat  white  bread  or  brown,  whichever  can  be 
got  with  least  thought  or  trouble,  and  would  rather  starve 
on  a  penny  than  work  for  a  pound.  If  left  to  himself, 
he  would  have  whistled  life  away  in  perfect  contentment ; 
but  his  wife  kept  continually  dinning  in  his  ears  about 
his  idleness,  his  carelessness,  and  the  ruin  he  was  bring- 
ing on  his  family.  Morning,  noon,  and  night,  her  tongue 
was  incessantly  going,  and  everything  he  said  or  did  was 
sure  to  produce  a  torrent  of  household  eloquence.  Rip 
had  but  one  way  of  replying  to  all  lectures  of  the  kind, 
and  that,  by  frequent  use,  had  grown  into  a  habit.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  shook  his  head,  cast  up  his  eyes, 
but  said  nothing.  This,  however,  always  provoked  a 
fresh  volley  from  his  wife  ;  so  that  he  was  fain  to  draw  off 
his  forces,  and  take  to  the  outside  of  the  house — the  only 
side  which,  in  truth,  belongs  to  a  hen-pecked  husband. 

Rip's  sole  domestic  adherent  was  his  dog  Wolf,  who 
was  as  much  hen-pecked  as  his  master ;  for  Dame  Van 
Winkle   regarded  them  as  companions  in  idleness,  and 


112  Greatest  Short  Stories 

even  looked  upon  Wolf  with  an  evil  ej'e,  as  the  cause  of 
his  master's  going  so  often  astray.  True  it  is,  in  all 
points  of  spirit  befitting  an  honorable  dog,  he  was  as 
courageous  an  animal  as  ever  scoured  the  woods  ;  but 
what  courage  can  withstand  the  ever-during  and  all-be- 
setting terrors  of  a  woman's  tongue?  The  moment  Wolf 
entered  the  house  his  crest  fell,  his  tail  drooped  to  the 
ground,  or  curled  between  his  legs,  he  sneaked  about 
with  a  gallows  air,  casting  many  a  sidelong  glance  at 
Dame  Van  Winkle,  and  at  the  least  flourish  of  a  broom- 
stick or  ladle  he  would  fly  to  the  door  with  yelping  pre- 
cipitation. 

Times  grew  worse  and  worse  with  Rip  Van  Winkle  as 
years  of  matrimony  rolled  on ;  a  tart  temper  never 
mellows  with  age,  and  a  sharp  tongue  is  the  only  edged 
tool  that  grows  keener  with  constant  use.  For  a  long 
while  he  used  to  console  himself,  when  driven  from  heme, 
by  frequenting  a  kind  of  perpetual  club  of  the  sages, 
philosophers,  and  other  idle  personages  of  the  village, 
which  held  its  sessions  on  a  bench  before  a  small  inn, 
designated  by  a  rubicund  portrait  of  His  Majesty  George 
the  Third.  Here  they  used  to  sit  in  the  shade  through 
a  long,  lazy  summer's  day,  talking  listlessly  over  village 
gossip,  or  telling  endless  sleepy  stories  about  nothing. 
But  it  would  have  been  worth  any  statesman's  money 
to  have  heard  the  profound  discussions  that  sometimes 
took  place,  when  by  chance  an  old  newspaper  fell  into 
their  hands  from  some  passing  traveller.  How  solemnly 
they  would  listen  to  the  contents,  as  drawled  out  by 
Derrick  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster,  a  dapper  learned 
little  man,  who  was  not  to  be  daunted  by  the  most 
gigantic  word  in  the  dictionary ;  and  how  sagely  they 
would  deliberate  upon  public  events  some  months  after 
they  had  taken  place. 


Rip  Van  Winkle  113 

The  opinions  of  this  junto  were  completely  controlled 
by  Nicholas  Vedder,  a  patriarch  of  the  village,  and  land- 
lord of  the  inn,  at  the  door  of  which  he  took  his  seat 
from  morning  till  night,  just  moving  sufficiently  to  avoid 
the  sun  and  keep  in  the  shade  of  a  large  tree ;  so  that 
the  neighbors  could  tell  the  hour  by  his  movements  as 
accurately  as  by  a  sun-dial.  It  is  true  he  was  rarely 
heard  to  speak,  but  smoked  his  pipe  incessantly.  His 
adherents,  however  (for  every  great  man  has  his  adher- 
ents) ,  perfectly  understood  him,  and  knew  how  to  gather 
his  opinions.  When  anything  that  was  read  or  related 
displeased  him,  he  was  observed  to  smoke  his  pipe  vehe- 
mently, and  to  send  forth  short,  frequent,  and  angry 
puffs ;  but  when  pleased,  he  would  inhale  the  smoke 
slowly  and  tranquilly,  and  emit  it  in  light  and  placid 
clouds ;  and  sometimes,  taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
r.nd  letting  the  fragrant  vapor  curl  about  his  nose,  would 
gravely  nod  his  head  in  token  of  perfect  approbation. 

From  even  this  stronghold  the  unlucky  Rip  was  at 
length  routed  by  his  termagant  wife,  who  would  suddenly 
break  in  upon  the  tranquillity  of  the  assemblage  and  call 
the  members  all  to  naught ;  nor  was  that  august  person- 
age, Nicholas  Vedder  himself,  sacred  from  the  daring 
tongue  of  this  terrible  virago,  who  charged  him  outright 
with  encouraging  her  husband  in  habits  of  idleness. 

Poor  Rip  was  at  last  reduced  almost  to  despair ;  and 
his  only  alternative,  to  escape  from  the  labor  of  the  farm 
and  clamor  of  his  wife,  was  to  take  gun  in  hand  and 
stroll  away  into  the  woods.  Here  he  would  sometimes 
seat  himself  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  and  share  the  contents 
of  his  wallet  with  Wolf,  with  whom  he  sympathized  as  a 
fellow-sufferer  in  persecution.  "  Poor  Wolf,"  he  would 
say,  "  thy  mistress  leads  thee  a  dog's  life  of  it ;  but  never 
mind,  my  lad,  whilst  I  live  thou  shalt  never  want  a  friend 

8 


1 14  Greatest  Short  Stories 

to  stand  by  thee  !  "     Wolf  would  wag  his  tail,  look  wist- 
fully in  his  master's  face ;   and  if  dogs  can   feel  pity,   I 
verily  believe  he  reciprocated  the  sentiment  with  all  his 
1  heart, 
.•    :^  j..     In  a  long  ramble  of  the  kind  on  a  fine  autumnal  day, 
I  ^      ,(~Rip  had  unconsciously  scrambled  to  one  of  the  highest 
^""^  _    parts  of  the  Kaatskill  mountains.     He  was  after  his  fa- 
vorite sport  of  squirrel-shooting,  and  the  still  solitudes 
had  echoed  and  re-echoed  with  the  reports  of  his  gun. 

t  Panting  and  fatigued,  he  threw  himself,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, on  a  green  knoll,  covered  with  mountain  herbage, 
that  crowned  the  brow  of  a  precipice.  From  an  opening 
between  the  trees  he  could  overlook  all  the  lower  coun- 
try for  many  a  mile  of  rich  woodland.  He  saw  at  a  dis- 
tance the  lordly  Hudson,  far,  far  below  him,  moving  on 
its  silent  but  majestic  course,  with  the  reflection  of  a 
purple  cloud,  or  the  sail  of  a  lagging  bark,  here  and 
there  sleeping  on  its  glassy  bosom,  and  at  last  losing  it- 
self in  the  blue  highlands. 

On  the  other  side  he  looked  down  into  a  deep  moun- 
tain glen,  wild,  lonely,  and  shagged,  the  bottom  filled  with 
fragments  from  the  impending  cliffs,  and  scarcely  Hghted 
by  the  reflected  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  For  some  time 
Rip  lay  musing  on  this  scene ;  evening  was  gradually 
advancing ;  the  mountains  began  to  throw  their  long 
blue  shadows  over  the  valleys ;  he  saw  that  it  would  be 
dark  long  before  he  could  reach  the  village,  and  he 
heaved  a  heavy  sigh  when  he  thought  of  encountering 
the  terrors  of  Dame  Van  Winkle. 

As  he  was  about  to  descend,  he  heard  a  voice  from  a  dis- 
tance, hallooing,  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  Rip  Van  Winkle  ! " 
He  looked  round,  but  could  see  nothing  but  a  crow  wing- 
ing its  solitary  flight  across  the  mountain.  He  thought 
his  fancy  must  have  deceived  him,  and  turned  again  to 


Rip  Van  Winkle  115 

descend,  when  he  heard  the  same  cry  ring  through  the 
still  evening  air  :  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  " 
—  at  the  same  time  Wolf  bristled  up  his  back,  and  giving 
a  low  growl,  skulked  to  his  master's  side,  looking  fearfully 
down  into  the  glen.  Rip  now  felt  a  vague  apprehension 
stealing  over  him  ;  he  looked  anxiously  in  the  same  di- 
rection, and  perceived  a  strange  figure  slowly  toiling  up 
the  rocks,  and  bending  under  the  weight  of  something 
he  carried  on  his  back.  He  was  surprised  to  see  any 
human  being  in  this  lonely  and  unfrequented  place  ;  but 
supposing  it  to  be  some  one  of  the  neighborhood  in 
need  of  his  assistance,  he  hastened  down  to  yield  it. 
On  nearer  approach  he  was  still  more  surprised  at  the 
singularity  of  the  stranger's  appearance.  He  was  a 
short,  square-built  old  fellow,  with  thick  bushy  hair,  and 
a  grizzled  beard.  His  dress  was  of  the  antique  Dutch 
fashion,  —  a  cloth  jerkin  strapped  round  the  waist  — 
several  pairs  of  breeches,  the  outer  one  of  ample  volume, 
decorated  with  rows  of  buttons  down  the  sides,  and 
bunches  at  the  knees.  He  bore  on  his  shoulder  a  stout 
keg,  that  seemed  full  of  liquor,  and  made  signs  for  Rip 
to  approach  and  assist  him  with  the  load.  Though 
rather  shy  and  distrustful  of  this  new  acquaintance,  Rip 
complied  with  his  usual  alacrity ;  and  mutually  relieving 
one  another,  they  clambered  up  a  narrow  gully,  appar- 
ently the  dry  bed  of  a  mountain  torrent.  As  they  as- 
cended. Rip  every  now  and  then  heard  long,  rolling 
peals,  like  distant  thunder,  that  seemed  to  issue  out  of 
a  deep  ravine,  or  rather  cleft,  between  lofty  rocks,  toward 
which  their  rugged  path  conducted.  He  paused  for  an 
instant,  but  supposing  it  to  be  the  muttering  of  one  of 
those  transient  thunder-showers  which  often  take  place 
in  mountain  heights,  he  proceeded.  Passing  through  the 
ravine,  they  came  to  a  hollow,  like  a  small  amphitheatre, 


ii6  Greatest  Short  Stories 

surrounded  by  perpendicular  precipices,  over  the  brinks 
of  whicli  impending  trees  sliot  their  branches,  so  that 
you  only  caught  glimpses  of  the  azure  sky  and  the  bright 
evening  cloud.  During  the  whole  time  Rip  and  his  com- 
panion had  labored  on  in  silence  ;  for  though  the  former 
marvelled  greatly  what  could  be  the  object  of  carrying  a 
keg  of  liquor  up  this  wild  mountain,  yet  there  was  some- 
thing strange  and  incomprehensible  about  the  unknown, 
that  inspired  awe  and  checked  familiarity. 

On  entering  the  amphitheatre,  new  objects  of  wonder 
presented  themselves.  On  a  level  spot  in  the  centre  was 
a  company  of  odd-looking  personages  playing  at  ninepins. 
They  were  dressed  in  a  quaint,  outlandish  fashion ;  some 
wore  short  doublets,  others  jerkins,  with  long  knives  in 
their  belts,  and  most  of  them  had  enormous  breeches  of 
similar  style  with  that  of  the  guide's.  Their  visages,  too, 
were  peculiar :  one  had  a  large  beard,  broad  face,  and 
small  piggish  eyes  ;  the  face  of  another  seemed  to  consist 
entirely  of  nose,  and  was  surmounted  by  a  white  sugar- 
loaf  hat,  set  off  with  a  little  red  cock's  tail.  They  all  had 
beards,  of  various  shapes  and  colors.  There  was  one  who 
seemed  to  be  the  commander.  He  was  a  stout  old  gen- 
tleman, with  a  weather-beaten  countenance  ;  he  wore  a 
laced  doublet,  broad  belt  and  hanger,  high-crowned  hat 
and  feather,  red  stockings,  and  high-heeled  shoes,  with 
roses  in  them.  The  whole  group  reminded  Rip  of  the 
figures  in  an  old  Flemish  painting,  in  the  parlor  of  Dom- 
inie Van  Shaick,  the  village  parson,  and  which  had  been 
brought  over  from  Holland  at  the  time  of  the  settlement. 

What  seemed  particularly  odd  to  Rip  was,  that,  though 
these  folks  were  evidently  amusing  themselves,  yet  they 
maintained  the  gravest  faces,  the  most  mysterious  silence, 
and  were,  withal,  the  most  melancholy  party  of  pleasure 
he  had  ever  witnessed.     Nothing  interrupted  the  stillness 


Rip  Van  Winkle  117 

of  the  scene  but  the  noise  of  the  balls,  which,  whenevei 
they  were  rolled,  echoed  along  the  mountains  like  rum- 
bling peals  of  thunder. 

As  Rip  and  his  companion  approached  them,  they 
suddenly  desisted  from  their  play,  and  stared  at  him 
with  such  fixed,  statue-like  gaze,  and  such  strange,  un- 
couth, lack-lustre  countenances,  that  his  heart  turned 
within  him,  and  his  knees  smote  together.  His  compan- 
ion now  emptied  the  contents  of  the  keg  into  large  flag- 
ons, and  made  signs  to  him  to  wait  upon  the  company. 
He  obeyed  with  fear  and  trembling ;  they  quaffed  the 
liquor  in  profound  silence,  and  then  returned  to  their 
game. 

By  degrees  Rip's  awe  and  apprehension  subsided.  He 
even  ventured,  when  no  eye  was  fixed  upon  him,  to  taste 
the  beverage,  which  he  found  had  much  of  the  flavor  of 
excellent  Hollands.  He  was  naturally  a  thirsty  soul,  and 
was  soon  tempted  to  repeat  the  draught.  One  taste  pro- 
voked another ;  and  he  reiterated  his  visits  to  the  flagon 
so  often  that  at  length  his  senses  were  overpowered,  his 
eyes  swam  in  his  head,  his  head  gradually  declined,  and 
he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

On  waking,  he  found  himself  on  the  green  knoll 
whence  he  had  first  seen  the  old  man  of  the  glen.  He 
rubbed  his  eyes  —  it  was  a  bright  sunny  morning.  The 
birds  were  hopping  and  twittering  among  the  bushes,  and 
the  eagle  was  wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting  the  pure  moun- 
tain breeze.  "  Surely,"  thought  Rip,  "  I  have  not  slept 
here  all  night."  He  recalled  the  occurrences  before  he 
fell  asleep.  The  strange  man  with  a  keg  of  liquor  —  the 
mountain  ravine  —  the  wild  retreat  among  the  rocks  — 
the  woe-begone  party  at  ninepins  —  the  flagon  —  "  Oh  ! 
that  flagon  !  that  wicked  flagon  !  "  thought  Rip,  —  "  what 
excuse  shall  I  make  to  Dame  Van  Winkle?" 


iiS  Greatest  Short  Stories 

He  looked  round  for  his  gun,  but  in  place  of  the 
clean,  well-oiled  fowling-piece,  he  found  an  old  firelock 
lying  by  him,  the  barrel  incrusted  with  rust,  the  lock  fall- 
ing off,  and  the  stock  worm-eaten.  He  now  suspected 
that  the  grave  roisters  of  the  mountain  had  put  a  trick 
upon  him,  and,  having  dosed  him  with  liquor,  had  robbed 
him  of  his  gun.  Wolf,  too,  had  disappeared,  but  he 
might  have  strayed  away  after  a  squirrel  or  partridge. 
He  whistled  after  him,  and  shouted  his  name,  but  all  in 
vain ;  the  echoes  repeated  his  whistle  and  shout,  but  no 
dog  was  to  be  seen. 

He  determined  to  revisit  the  scene  of  the  last  even- 
ing's gambol,  and  if  he  met  with  any  of  the  party,  to 
demand  his  dog  and  gun.  As  he  rose  to  walk,  he  found 
himself  stiff  in  the  joints,  and  wanting  in  his  usual  activity. 
"These  mountain  beds  do  not  agree  with  me,"  thought 
Rip,  "  and  if  this  frolic  should  lay  me  up  with  a  fit  of  the 
rheumatism,  I  shall  have  a  blessed  time  with  Dame  Van 
Winkle."  With  some  difficulty  he  got  down  into  the 
glen  :  he  found  the  gully  up  which  he  and  his  companion 
had  ascended  the  preceding  evening  ;  but  to  his  astonish- 
ment a  mountain  stream  was  now  foaming  down  it,  leap- 
ing from  rock  to  rock,  and  filling  the  glen  with  babbling 
murmurs.  He,  however,  made  shift  to  scramble  up  its 
sides,  working  his  toilsome  way  through  thickets  of  birch, 
sassafras,  and  witch-hazel,  and  sometimes  tripped  up  or 
entangled  by  the  wild  grape-vines  that  twisted  their  coils 
or  tendrils  from  tree  to  tree,  and  spread  a  kind  of  net- 
work in  his  path. 

At  length  he  reached  to  where  the  ravine  had  opened 
through  the  cliffs  to  the  amphitheatre  ;  but  no  traces  of 
such  opening  remained.  The  rocks  presented  a  high, 
impenetrable  wall,  over  which  the  torrent  came  tumbling 
in  a  sheet  of  feathery  foam,  and  fell  into  a  broad,  deep 


Rip  Van  Winkle  119 

basin,  black  from  the  shadows  of  the  surrounding  forest. 
Here,  then,  poor  Rip  was  brought  to  a  stand.  He  again 
called  and  whistled  after  his  dog  :  he  was  only  answered 
by  the  cawing  of  a  flock  of  idle  crows,  sporting  high  in 
air  about  a  dry  tree  that  overhung  a  sunny  precipice ; 
and  who,  secure  in  their  elevation,  seemed  to  look  down 
and  scoff  at  the  poor  man's  perplexities.  What  was  to 
be  done  ?  the  morning  was  passing  away,  and  Rip  felt 
famished  for  want  of  his  breakfast.  He  grieved  to  give 
up  his  dog  and  gun  ;  he  dreaded  to  meet  his  wife ;  but  it 
would  not  do  to  starve  among  the  mountains.  He  shook 
his  head,  shouldered  the  rusty  firelock,  and,  with  a  heart 
full  of  trouble  and  anxiety,  turned  his  steps  homeward. 

As  he  approached  the  village  he  met  a  number  of 
people,  but  none  whom  he  knew,  which  somewhat  sur- 
prised him,  for  he  had  thought  himself  acquainted  with 
every  one  in  the  country  round.  Their  dress,  too,  was 
of  a  different  fashion  from  that  to  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed. They  all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of 
surprise,  and  whenever  they  cast  their  eyes  upon  him, 
invariably  stroked  their  chins.  The  constant  recurrence 
of  this  gesture  induced  Rip,  involuntarily,  to  do  the 
same,  when,  to  his  astonishment,  he  found  his  beard  had 
grown  a  foot  long  ! 

He  had  now  entered  the  skirts  of  the  village.  A  troop 
of  strange  children  ran  at  his  heels,  hooting  after  him, 
and  pointing  at  his  gray  beard.  The  dogs,  too,  not  one 
of  which  he  recognized  for  an  old  acquaintance,  barked 
at  him  as  he  passed.  The  very  village  was  altered  ;  it 
was  larger  and  more  populous.  There  were  rows  of 
houses  which  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  those  which 
had  been  his  familiar  haunts  had  disappeared.  Strange 
names  were  over  the  doors  —  strange  faces  at  the  win- 
dows —  everything  was  strange.     His  mind  now  misgave 


1 20  Greatest  Short  Stories 

him  ;  he  began  to  doubt  whether  both  he  and  the  world 
around  him  were  not  bewitched.  Surely  this  was  his 
native  village,  which  he  had  left  but  the  day  before. 
There  stood  the  Kaalskill  mountains  —  there  ran  the 
silver  Hudson  at  a  distance  —  there  was  every  hill  and 
dale  precisely  as  it  had  always  been.  Rip  was  sorely 
perplexed.  "That  flagon  last  night,"  thought  he,  "has 
addled  my  poor  head  sadly  !  " 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he  found  the  way  to 
his  own  house,  which  he  approached  with  silent  awe, 
expecting  every  moment  to  hear  the  shrill  voice  of  Dame 
Van  Winkle.  He  found  the  house  gone  to  decay  —  the 
roof  fallen  in,  the  windows  shattered,  and  the  doors  off 
the  hinges.  A  half-starved  dog  that  looked  like  Wolf 
was  skulking  about  it.  .Rip  called  him  by  name,  but  the 
cur  snarled,  showed  his  teeth,  and  passed  on.  This  was 
an  unkind  cut  indeed.  "  My  very  dog,"  sighed  poor 
Rip,   "  has  forgotten  me  !  " 

He  entered  the  house,  which,  to  tell  the  truth,  Dame 
Van  Winkle  had  always  kept  in  neat  order.  It  was 
empty,  forlorn,  and  apparently  abandoned.  This  deso- 
lateness  overcame  all  his  connubial  fears  —  he  called 
loudly  for  his  wife  and  children  —  the  lonely  chambers 
rang  for  a  moment  with  his  voice,  and  then  all  again 
was   silence. 

He  now  hurried  forth,  and  hastened  to  his  old  resort, 
the  village  inn  —  but  it  too  was  gone.  A  large  rickety 
wooden  building  stood  in  its  place  with  great  gaping 
windows,  some  of  them  broken  and  mended  with  old 
hats  and  petticoats,  and  over  the  door  was  painted, 
"The  Union  Hotel,  by  Jonathan  Doolittle."  Instead  of 
the  great  tree  that  used  to  shelter  the  quiet  little  Dutch 
inn  of  yore,  there  now  was  reared  a  tall  naked  pole,  with 
something  on  the  top  that  looked  like  a  red  nightcap, 


Rip  Van  Winkle  121 

and  from  it  was  fluttering  a  flag,  on  which  was  a  singulai 
assemblage  of  stars  and  stripes;  —  all  this  was  strange 
and  incomprehensible.  He  recognized  on  the  sign, 
however,  the  ruby  face  of  King  George,  under  which  he 
had  smoked  so  many  a  peaceful  pipe  ;  but  even  this  was 
singularly  metamorphosed.  The  red  coat  was  changed 
for  one  of  blue  and  buff,  a  sword  was  held  in  the  hand 
instead  of  a  sceptre,  the  head  was  decorated  with  a 
cocked  hat,  and  underneath  was  painted  in  large  charac- 
ters. General  Washington. 

There  was,  as  usual,  a  crowd  of  folk  about  the  door, 
but  none  that  Rip  recollected.  The  very  character  of 
the  people  seemed  changed.  There  was  a  busy,  bustl- 
ing, disputatious  tone  about  it,  instead  of  the  accustomed 
phlegm  and  drowsy  tranquillity.  He  looked  in  vain  for 
the  sage  Nicholas  Vedder,  with  his  broad  face,  double 
chin,  and  fair  long  pipe,  uttering  clouds  of  tobacco 
smoke  instead  of  idle  speeches;  or  Van  Bumrael,  the 
schoolmaster,  doling  forth  the  contents  of  an  ancient 
newspaper.  In  place  of  these,  a  lean,  bilious-looking 
fellow,  with  his  pockets  full  of  hand-bills,  was  haranguing 
vehemently  about  rights  of  citizens  —  elections  —  mem- 
bers of  congress — liberty — Bunker's  Hill  —  heroes  of 
seventy-six  —  and  other  words,  which  were  a  perfect 
Babylonish  jargon  to  the  bewildered  Van  Winkle. 

The  appearance  of  Rip,  with  his  long,  grizzled  beard, 
his  rusty  fowling-piece,  his  uncouth  dress,  and  an  army 
of  women  and  children  at  his  heels,  soon  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  tavern-politicians.  They  crowded  round 
him,  eying  him  from  head  to  foot  with  great  curiosity. 
The  orator  bustled  up  to  him,  and,  drawing  him  partly 
aside,  inquired  "on  which  side  he  voted?"  Rip  stared 
in  vacant  stupidity.  Another  short  but  busy  little  fellow 
•pulled  him  by  the  arm,  and,  rising  on  tiptoe,  inquired  in 


122  Greatest  Short  Stories 

his  ear,  "  Whether  he  was  Federal  or  Democrat?  "  Rip 
was  equally  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  the  question ;  when 
a  knowing,  self-important  old  gentleman,  in  a  sharp 
cocked  hat,  made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  putting 
them  to  the  right  and  left  with  his  elbows  as  he  passed, 
and  planting  himself  before  Van  Winkle,  with  one  arm 
akimbo,  the  other  resting  on  his  cane,  his  keen  eyes 
and  sharp  hat  penetrating,  as  it  were,  into  his  very 
soul,  demanded  in  an  austere  tone,  "  What  brought 
him  to  the  election  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and 
a  mob  at  his  heels  ;  and  whether  he  meant  to  breed 
a  riot  in  the  village?"  —  "  Alas  !  gentlemen,"  cried  Rip, 
somewhat  dismayed,  "  I  am  a  poor,  quiet  man,  a  native 
of  the  place,  and  a  loyal  subject  of  the  King,  Gud 
bless  him !  " 

Here  a  general  shout  burst  from  the  by-standers  — 
*•'  A  tory  !  a  tory  !  a  spy  !  a  refugee  !  hustle  him  !  away 
with  him  !  "  It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  the  self- 
important  man  in  the  cocked  hat  restored  order;  and, 
having  assumed  a  tenfold  austerity  of  brow,  demanded 
again  of  the  unknown  culprit,  what  he  came  there  for, 
and  whom  he  was  seeking?  The  poor  man  humbly 
assured  him  that  he  meant  no  harm,  but  merely  came 
there  in  search  of  some  of  his  neighbors,  who  used  to 
keep  about  the  tavern. 

"  Well  —  who  are  they  ?  —  name  them." 

Rip  bethought  himself  a  moment,  and  inquired, 
"Where's  Nicholas  Vedder?" 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  little  while,  when  an  old 
man  replied,  in  a  thin  piping  voice,  "  Nicholas  Vedder  ! 
why,  he  is  dead  and  gone  these  eighteen  years  !  There 
was  a  wooden  tombstone  in  the  churchyard  that  used 
to  tell  all  about  him,  but  that's  rotten  and  gone  too." 

"  Where  's  Brom  Butcher?  " 


Rip  Van  Winkle  123 

"  Oh,  he  went  off  to  the  army  in  the  beginning  of  the 
war ;  some  say  he  was  killed  at  the  storming  of  Stony 
Point  —  others  say  he  was  drowned  in  a  squall  at  the 
foot  of  Antony's  Nose.  I  don't  know  —  he  never  came 
back  again." 

"Where's  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster?" 

"  He  went  off  to  the  wars  too,  was  a  great  militia 
general,  and  is  now  in  Congress." 

Rip's  heart  died  away  at  hearing  of  these  sad  changes 
in  his  home  and  friends,  and  finding  himself  thus  alone 
in  the  world.  Every  answer  puzzled  him  too,  by  treating 
of  such  enormous  lapses  of  time,  and  of  matters  which 
he  could  not  understand  :  war — congress —  Stony  Point ; 
—  he  had  no  courage  to  ask  after  any  more  friends,  but 
cried  out  in  despair,  "  Does  nobody  here  know  Rip  Van 
Winkle?" 

"  Oh,  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  "  exclaimed  two  or  three ; 
"  oh,  to  be  sure  !  that 's  Rip  Van  Winkle  yonder,  leaning 
against  the  tree." 

Rip  looked,  and  beheld  a  precise  counterpart  of  him- 
self as  he  went  up  the  mountain ;  apparently  as  lazy, 
and  certainly  as  ragged.  The  poor  fellow  was  now  com- 
pletely confounded.  He  doubted  his  own  identity,  and 
whether  he  was  himself  or  another  man.  In  the  midst 
of  his  bewilderment,  the  man  in  the  cocked  hat  de- 
manded who  he  was,  and  what  was  his  name. 

"God  knows,"  exclaimed  he,  at  his  wit's  end;  "I'm 
not  myself —  I  'm  somebody  else  ^that  's  me  yonder  — 
no  —  that 's  somebody  else  got  into  my  shoes  —  I  was 
myself  last  night,  but  I  fell  asleep  on  the  mountain,  and 
they  've  changed  my  gun,  and  everything  's  changed,  and 
I  'm  changed,  and  I  can't  tell  what 's  my  name,  or  who 
I  am  !  " 

The  by-standers  began  now  to  look  at  each  other,  nod, 


124  Greatest  Short  Stories 

wink  significantly,  and  tap  their  fingers  against  their  fore- 
heads. There  was  a  whisper,  also,  about  securing  the 
gun,  and  keeping  the  old  fellow  from  doing  mischief,  at 
the  very  suggestion  of  which  the  self-important  man  in 
the  cocked  hat  retired  with  some  precipitation.  At 
this  critical  moment  a  fresh,  comely  woman  pressed 
through  the  throng  to  get  a  peep  at  the  gray-bearded 
man.  She  had  a  chubby  child  in  her  arms,  wliich, 
frightened  at  his  looks,  began  to  cry.  "  Hush,  Rip," 
cried  she,  '*  hush,  you  little  fool ;  the  old  man  won't  hurt 
you."  The  name  of  the  child,  the  air  of  the  mother, 
the  tone  of  her  voice,  all  awakened  a  train  of  recollec- 
tions in  his  mind.  "  What  is  your  name,  my  good 
woman  ?  "   asked  he. 

"Judith  Gardenier." 

"And  your  father's  name?" 

"  Ah,  poor  man.  Rip  Van  Winkle  was  his  name,  but 
it 's  twenty  years  since  he  went  away  from  home  with  his 
gun,  and  never  has  been  heard  of  since, —  his  dog  came 
home  without  him  ;  but  whether  he  shot  himself,  or  was 
carried  away  by  the  Indians,  nobody  can  tell.  I  was 
then  but  a  little  girl." 

Rip  had  but  one  question  more  to  ask ;  but  he  put  it 
with  a  faltering  voice  : 

"  Where  's  your  mother?  " 

"  Oh,  she  too  had  died  but  a  short  time  since  ;  she 
broke  a  blood-vessel  in  a  fit  of  passion  at  a  New  Eng- 
land peddler." 

There  was  a  drop  of  comfort,  at  least,  in  this  intelli- 
gence. The  honest  man  could  contain  himself  no 
longer.  He  caught  his  daughter  and  her  child  in  his 
arms.  "  I  am  your  father  !  "  cried  he  —  "  Young  Rip 
Van  Winkle  once  —  old  Rip  Van  Winkle  now  !  Does 
nobody  know  poor  Rip  Van  Winkle?" 


Rip  Van  Winkle  125 

All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman,  tottering  out 
from  among  the  crowd,  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and 
peering  under  it  in  his  face  for  a  moment,  exclaimed, 
"  Sure  enough  !  it  is  Rip  Van  Winkle  —  it  is  himself ! 
Welcome  home  again,  old  neighbor  !  Why,  where  have 
you  been  these  twenty  long  years?" 

Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole  twenty  years 
had  been  to  him  but  as  one  night.  The  neighbors 
stared  when  they  heard  it ;  some  were  seen  to  wink  at 
each  other,  and  put  their  tongues  in  their  cheeks  :  and 
the  self-important  man  in  the  cocked  hat,  who,  when  the 
alarm  was  over,  had  returned  to  the  field,  screwed  down 
the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  shook  his  head  —  upon 
which  there  was  a  general  shaking  of  the  head  through- 
out the  assemblage. 

It  was  determined,  however,  to  take  the  opinion  of 
old  Peter  Vanderdonk,  who  was  seen  slowly  advancing 
up  the  road.  He  was  a  descendant  of  the  historian  of 
that  name,  who  wrote  one  of  the  earliest  accounts  of  the 
province.  Peter  was  the  most  ancient  inhabitant  of  the 
village,  and  well  versed  in  all  the  wonderful  events  and 
traditions  of  the  neighborhood.  He  recollected  Rip  at 
once,  and  corroborated  his  story  in  the  most  satisfactory 
manner.  He  assured  the  company  that  it  was  a  fact, 
handed  down  from  his  ancestor  the  historian,  that  the 
Kaatskill  mountains  had  always  been  haunted  by  strange 
beings ;  that  it  was  affirmed  that  the  great  Hendrick 
Hudson,  the  first  discoverer  of  the  river  and  country, 
kept  a  kind  of  vigil  there  every  twenty  years,  with  his 
crew  of  the  Half-moon,  being  permitted  in  this  way  to 
revisit  the  scenes  of  his  enterprise,  and  keep  a  guardian 
eye  upon  the  river  and  the  great  city  called  by  his  name  ; 
that  his  father  had  once  seen  them  in  their  old  Dutch 
dresses  playing  at  ninepins  in  a  hollow  of  the  mountain ; 


126  Greatest  Short  Stories 

and  that  he  himself  had  heard,  one  summer  afternoon, 
the  sound  of  their  balls,  like  distant  peals  of  thunder. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  company  broke  up 
and  returned  to  the  more  important  concerns  of  the 
election.  Rip's  daughter  took  him  home  to  live  with 
her;  she  had  a  snug,  well-furnished  house,  and  a  stout, 
cheery  farmer  for  a  husband,  whom  Rip  recollected  for 
one  of  the  urchins  that  used  to  climb  upon  his  back. 
As  to  Rip's  son  and  heir,  who  was  the  ditto  of  himself, 
seen  leaning  against  the  tree,  he  was  employed  to  work 
on  the  farm  ;  but  evinced  an  hereditary  disposition  to 
attend  to  anything  else  but  his  business. 

Rip  now  resumed  his  old  walks  and  habits ;  he  soon 
found  many  of  his  former  cronies,  though  all  rather  the 
worse  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  time  ;  and  preferred  mak- 
ing friends  among  the  rising  generation,  with  whom  he 
soon  grew  into  great  favor. 

Having  nothing  to  do  at  home,  and  being  arrived  at 
that  happy  age  when  a  man  can  be  idle  with  impunity, 
he  took  his  place  once  more  on  the  bench  at  the  inn- 
door,  and  was  reverenced  as  one  of  the  patriarchs  of  the 
village,  and  a  chronicle  of  the  old  times  "  before  the 
war."  It  was  some  time  before  he  could  get  into  the 
regular  track  of  gossip,  or  could  be  made  to  comprehend 
the  strange  events  that  had  taken  place  during  his  tor- 
por. How  that  there  had  been  a  revolutionary  war,  — 
that  the  country  had  thrown  off  the  yoke  of  old  England 
—  and  that,  instead  of  being  a  subject  of  his  Majesty 
George  the  Third,  he  was  now  a  free  citizen  of  the 
United  States.  Rip,  in  fact,  was  no  politician ;  the 
changes  of  states  and  empires  made  but  little  impression 
on  him ;  but  there  was  one  species  of  despotism  under 
which  he  had  long  groaned,  and  that  was  —  petticoat 
government.     Happily  that  was  at  an  end ;  he  had  got 


Rip  Van  Winkle  127 

his  neck  out  of  the  yoke  of  matrimony,  and  could  go 
in  and  out  whenever  he  pleased,  without  dreading  the 
tyranny  of  Dame  Van  Winkle.  Whenever  her  name 
was  mentioned,  however,  he  shook  his  head,  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  cast  up  his  eyes ;  which  might  pass 
either  for  an  expression  of  resignation  to  his  fate,  or  joy 
at  his  deliverance. 

He  used  to  tell  his  story  to  every  stranger  that  arrived 
at  Mr.  Doolittle's  hotel.  He  was  observed,  at  first,  to 
vary  on  some  points  every  time  he  told  it,  which  was, 
doubtless,  owing  to  his  having  so  recently  awaked.  It 
at  last  settled  down  precisely  to  the  tale  I  have  related, 
and  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  the  neighborhood  but 
knew  it  by  heart.  Some  always  pretended  to  doubt  the 
reaUty  of  it,  and  insisted  that  Rip  had  been  out  of  his 
head,  and  that  this  was  one  point  on  which  he  always 
remained  flighty.  The  old  Dutch  inhabitants,  however, 
almost  universally  gave  it  full  credit.  Even  to  this  day 
they  never  hear  a  thunder-storm  of  a  summer  afternoon 
about  the  Kaatskill,  but  they  say  Hendrick  Hudson  and 
his  crew  are  at  their  game  of  ninepins  ;  and  it  is  a  com- 
mon wish  of  all  hen-pecked  husbands  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, when  life  hangs  heavy  on  their  hands,  that  they 
might  have  a  quieting  draught  out  of  Rip  Van  Winkle's 
flagon. 

Note.  —  The  foregoing  Tale,  one  would  suspect,  had  been  sug- 
gested to  Mr.  Knickerbocker  by  a  little  German  superstition  about 
the  Emperor  Frederick  der  Kothbart,  and  the  Kypphauser  moun- 
tain :  the  subjoined  note,  however,  which  he  had  appended  to 
the  tale,  shows  that  it  is  an  absolute  fact,  narrated  with  his  usual 
fidelity. 

"  The  story  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  may  seem  incredible  to  many, 
but  nevertheless  I  give  it  my  full  belief,  for  I  know  the  vicinity  of 
our  old  Dutch  settlements  to  have  been  very  subject  to  marvel- 
lous events  and  appearances.     Indeed,  I  have  heard  many  stranger 


128  Greatest  Short  Stories 

stories  than  this,  in  the  villages  along  the  Hudson ;  all  of  which 
were  too  well  authenticated  to  admit  of  a  doubt.  I  have  even 
talked  with  Rip  Van  Winkle  myself,  who,  when  last  I  saw  him, 
was  a  very  venerable  old  man,  and  so  perfectly  rational  and  con- 
sistent on  every  other  point,  that  I  think  no  conscientious  person 
could  refuse  to  take  this  into  the  bargain;  nay,  I  have  seen  a 
certificate  on  the  subject  taken  before  a  country  justice  and  signed 
with  a  cross,  in  the  justice's  own  handwriting.  The  story,  there- 
fore, is  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt. 

"D.  K." 

PosTSCRiPi".  — The  following  are  travelling  notes  from  a  memo- 
randum-book of  Mr.  Knickerbocker. 

The  Kaatsberg,  or  Catskill  Mountains,  have  always  been  a 
region  full  of  fable.  The  Indians  considered  them  the  abode  of 
spirits,  who  influenced  the  weather,  spreading  sunshine  or  clouds 
over  the  landscape,  and  sending  good  or  bad  hunting-seasons. 
They  were  ruled  by  an  old  squaw  spirit,  said  to  be  their  mother. 
She  dwelt  on  the  highest  peak  of  the  Catskills,  and  had  charge 
of  the  doors  of  day  and  night  to  open  and  shut  them  at  the  proper 
hour.  She  hung  up  the  new  moons  in  the  skies,  and  cut  up  the 
old  ones  into  stars.  In  times  of  drought,  if  properly  propitiated, 
she  would  spin  light  summer  clouds  out  of  cobwebs  and  morning 
dew,  and  send  them  off  from  the  crest  of  the  mountain,  flake  after 
flake,  like  flakes  of  carded  cotton,  to  float  in  the  air;  until,  dis- 
solved by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  they  would  fall  in  gentle  showers, 
causing  the  grass  to  spring,  the  fruits  to  ripen,  and  the  corn  to 
grow  an  inch  an  hour.  If  displeased,  however,  she  would  brew 
up  clouds  black  as  ink,  sitting  in  the  midst  of  them  like  a  bottle- 
bellied  spider  in  the  midst  of  its  web ;  and  when  these  clouds 
broke,  woe  betide  the  valleys  ! 

In  old  times,  say  the  Indian  traditions,  there  was  a  kind  of 
Manitou  or  Spirit,  who  kept  about  the  wildest  recesses  of  the 
Catskill  Mountains,  and  took  a  mischievous  pleasure  in  wreaking 
all  kinds  of  evils  and  vexations  upon  the  red  men.  Sometimes 
he  would  assume  the  form  of  a  bear,  a  panther,  or  a  deer,  lead  the 
bewildered  hunter  a  weary  chase  through  tangled  forests  and 
among  ragged  rocks;  and  then  spring  off  with  a  loud  ho!  ho! 
leaving  him  aghast  on  the  brink  of  a  beetling  precipice  or  raging 
torrent. 

The  favorite  abode  of  this  Manitou  is  still  shown.  It  is  a  great 
rock  or  cliff  on  the  loneliest  part  of  the  mountains,  and,  from  the 
flowering   vines  which  clamber  about    it,  and   the   wild  flowers 


Rip  Van  Winkle  129 

which  abound  in  its  neighborhood,  is  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Garden  Rock.  Near  the  foot  of  it  is  a  small  lake,  the  haunt 
of  the  solitary  bittern,  with  water-snakes  basking  in  the  sun  on 
the  leaves  of  the  pond-lilies  which  lie  on  the  surface.  This  place 
was  held  in  great  awe  by  the  Indians,  insomuch  that  the  boldest 
hunter  would  not  pursue  his  game  within  its  precincts.  Once 
upon  a  time,  however,  a  hunter  who  had  lost  his  way,  penetrated 
to  the  Garden  Rock,  where  he  beheld  a  number  of  gourds  placed 
in  the  crotches  of  trees.  One  of  these  he  seized  and  made  off 
with  it,  but  in  the  hurry  of  his  retreat  he  let  it  fall  among  the 
rocks,  when  a  great  stream  gushed  forth,  which  washed  him  away 
and  swept  him  down  precipices,  where  he  was  dashed  to  pieces, 
and  the  stream  made  its  way  to  the  Hudson,  and  continues  to  flow 
to  the  present  day ;  being  the  identical  stream  known  by  the  name 
of  the  Kaaters-kill. 


IV 

A    PASSION    IN   THE   DESERT 


■*.*' 


A    PASSION    IN    THE   DESERT 

By   HONORE   DE   BALZAC 

INTRODUCTORY 

REALISM    AND    'ATMOSPHERE" 

THE  year  1830  marked  an  epoch  in  the  his- 
tory of  fiction.  Scott  was  dying,  but  the 
influence  of  his  stirring  romances,  with 
their  movement,  their  pageantry,  and  their  march  of 
historic  events,  was  appearing  in  France  in  the  first 
successes  of  Dumas  and  Victor  Hugo.  Romance 
suddenly  flowered  into  something  too  large,  too 
airy,  too  varied  and-  magnificent  for  the  short 
story.  Treated  as  Scott  would  have  dealt  with 
it,  the  story  of  Aladdin  would  have  filled  a  good 
sized  volume. 

But  side  by  side  with  the  romantic  movement 
we  find  the  realistic  school  quietly  and  slowly  de- 
veloping. In  England,  Jane  Austen's  books  had 
already  appeared  before  "  Waverley  "  was  written  ; 
and  in  France,  Balzac,  greater  than  either  Dumas  or 
Hugo,  came  into  public  notice  simultaneously  with 
them,  completing  his  best  work  before  they  were 
fairly  started.  The  realists  adopted  the  short  story 
and  perfected  it,  and  the  best  of  their  work  is  little 


134  Greatest  Short  Stories 

more  than  a  series  of  short  stories,  and  often  a  novel 
is  a  single  short  story  developed  and  elaborated  in 
detail.  A  well-known  English  critic  is  of  the  opinion 
that  Thackeray  was  a  short  story  writer  gone  wrong, 
and  that  "Vanity  Fair"  is  in  reality  a  short  story 
which  should  have  ended  with  the  first  of  the  three 
original  volumes.  The  novels  of  Dickens  make 
no  pretence  at  cohesion,  and  short  stories  are  fre- 
quently introduced.  In  these  writers,  description 
reaches  a  tropical  luxuriance  equalled  nowhere  else, 
and  of  course  the  minute  study  of  character  is  the 
element  of  chief  interest  and  value. 

"A  Passion  in  the  Desert"  is  remarkable  for 
two  things.  First,  we  find  "  atmosphere  "  in  such 
perfection  that  we  fairly  feel  oppressed  by  the  hot, 
sultry  air  of  the  desert.  And  again,  although  there 
is  no  woman  in  the  story,  nevertheless  we  find  an 
innocent  and  purified  study  of  sexual  passion  and 
feminine  caprice  and  character  (by  reflection  in 
the  tiger)  which  leaves  the  oftentimes  bald  vulgar- 
ity of  the  "  Decameron  "  far  behind  in  its  essen- 
tial interest.  Though  Balzac,  in  common  with  all 
French  writers,  goes  much  nearer  the  unveiled 
freedom  of  Boccaccio  in  others  of  his  stories,  in 
"  A  Passion  in  the  Desert "  we  have  what  is  to  the 
English  mind  the  ideal  presentation  of  extreme 
passion.  The  passion  of  love  between  man  and 
woman  exceeds  all  others  in  its  interest  to  readers 
of  fiction,  and  is  unsurpassed  as  a  moving  force  in 
the  imaginary  affairs  of  men ;    but  it  must  appear 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  135 

in  its  refined  and  higher  attributes,  as  the  fire  which 
lights  up  all  the  nobler  human  faculties. 


A   PASSION   IN   THE    DESERT 

[Translated  by  the  Editor] 

**  TT  makes  me  shudder,"  she  cried  as  she  emerged 
'X   from  Monsieur  Martin's  menagerie.     She  had  just 
been  looking  at  that  daring  showman  "working"  with 
his  hyena  —  to  speak  in  the  style  of  the  handbills. 

"  By  what  means,"  she  went  on,  "  can  he  have  tamed 
these  animals  to  the  point  of  being  quite  certain  of  their 
affection  for  —  " 

"  What  seems  to  you  a  problem,"  said  I,  interrupting 
her,  "  is  nevertheless  perfectly  natural." 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  cried,  an  incredulous  smile  playing 
over  her  lips. 

,  "Do  you  think,  then,  these  wild  beasts  are  entirely 
devoid  of  passion?"  I  demanded.  "  Let  me  assure  you, 
we  can  communicate  to  them  all  the  vices  of  modern 
civilization." 

She  looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 

"  I  admit,"  I  went  on,  "  that  the  first  time  I  saw 
Monsieur  Martin,  I,  like  you,  was  betrayed  into  an  ex- 
clamation of  surpise.  I  found  myself  beside  an  old 
soldier  who  had  lost  a  leg.  He  had  entered  with  me,  and 
his  features  had  caught  my  eye.  He  had  an  intrepid 
countenance,  seamed  with  the  lines  of  war  and  written  all 
over  with  the  battles  of  Napoleon.  Besides,  he  had  an 
air  of  frankness  and  good  humor  which  impressed  me 
favorably.  You  could  see  by  his  looks  that  he  was  one 
of  those  troopers  who  are  surprised  at  nothing,  who  see 
the  humorous  side  even  of  the  last  agonies  of  a  dying 


136  Greatest  Short  Stories 

comrade,  who  bury  or  plunder  with  equal  cheerfulness, 
and  whose  authoritative  arguments  are  found  in  bullets : 
in  short,  he  was  one  of  those  men  who  waste  no  time  in 
deliberation,  and  woukl  not  hesitate  to  make  friends 
with  the  devil  on  a  moment's  notice. 

"  After  watching  the  proprietor  of  the  menagerie  out 
of  his  box,  my  companion  looked  about  with  an  expres- 
sion of  contempt  on  his  lips,  —  one  of  those  mocking 
smiles  peculiar  to  the  person  of  superior  knowledge, 
indicating  that  he  is  not  among  the  dupes.  When  I 
expatiated  on  the  courage  of  Monsieur  Martin,  he 
laughed,  and,  wagging  his  head  in  a  knowing  way,  re- 
marked,  *  Coiinu  ! '    '  Easy  ! ' 

"  '  How,  easy  ?  '  I  answered.  '  If  you  can  explain 
this  mystery  I  shall  be  infinitely  obliged  to  you.' 

"  After  chatting  a  few  minutes  we  went  to  dine  at  the 
nearest  restaurant.  At  dessert  a  bottle  of  champagne 
revived  the  memory  of  this  queer  old  soldier  in  all  its 
clearness.  He  told  me  his  story,  and  I  reahzed  that 
he  had  every  reason  to  exclaim,  '  Connu /'  " 

When  we  got  home,  she  teased  me  so  much  that  I 
consented  to  relate  to  her  the  soldier's  confidence.  The 
next  day  she  received  this  episode  of  an  epic  which  we 
might  entitle  "  The  French  in  Egypt." 

During  the  expedition  undertaken  by  General  Desaix_ 
into  Upper  Egypt,  a  Provengal  soldier  fell  into  the 
'hands  of  the  Maugrabins  and  was  carried  away  by  these 
^^jArabs  into  the  desert  beyond  the  cataracts  of  the  Nile. 
In  order  to  place  a  safe  distance  between  themselves 
and  the  French  army,  the  Maugrabins  made  a  forced 
march,  resting  only  by  night.  They  camped  about  a 
well  hidden  by  palm-trees,  where  they  had  previously 
concealed  provisions.     Not  suspecting  that  the  idea  of 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  ly/ 

escape  would  enter  the  mind  of  their  prisoner,  they 
merely  tied  his  hands,  and  when  they  had  eaten  some 
dates  and  fed  their  horses,  they  went  to  sleep.  When 
the  courageous  Frenchman  saw  that  his  enemies  were 
no  longer  in  a  condition  to  watch  him,  he  managed  to 
use  his  teeth  to  get  hold  of  a  scimiter,  and  fixing  the 
blade  between  his  knees,  cut  the  cord  which  restrained 
his  hands,  and  in  a  moment  found  himself  free.  He 
then  seized  a  carbine  and  a  poniard,  took  the  precaution 
of  providing  himself  with  some  dry  dates,  a  little  sack  of 
barley,  and  powder  and  balls.  He  buckled  the  scimiter 
about  his  waist,  mounted  a  horse,  and  quickly  spurred 
away  in  the  direction  in  which  he  thought  the  French 
army  must  lie.  So  impatient  was  he  to  see  the  mess 
tent  once  more,  that  he  urged  on  his  already  tired 
courser  at  such  a  speed  that  the  poor  animal,  its  flanks 
lacerated  by  the  spurs,  soon  breathed  its  last  and  left  its 
rider  in  the  midst  of  the  desert. 

After  walking  on  for  some  time  in  the  sand  with  all 
the  courage  of  an  escaped  convict,  tb-c  soldier  was 
obliged  to  stop,  as  the  day  was  at  an  end.  In  spite  of 
the  beauty  of  an  Oriental  night,  he  felt  that  he  had  not 
the  strength  to  continue  his  journey.  He  had  been 
fortunate  enough  to  gain  an  eminence  on  the  top  of 
which  grew  palms,  whose  foliage  had  been  visible  for  a 
long  time  and  had  filled  his  heart  with  gentle  hopes. 
His  weariness  was  so  great  that  he  lay  oown  on  a 
granite  boulder,  by  chance  hollowed  out  like  a  camp- 
bed,  and  fell  asleep  without  taking  any  precaution  for 
his  safety  during  the  night.  He  had  made  the  sacrifice  of 
his  life.  His  last  thought  was  one  of  regret.  He  already 
repented  of  having  left  the  Maugrabins,  whose  wandering 
life  began  to  smile  upon  him,  now  that  they  were  far 
away  and  he  was  helpless. 


J 


8  Greatest  Short  Stories 


He  was  awakened   by  the   sun,  whose   pitiless  rays, 

I   beating  straight  down  upon  the  granite  rock,  produced 

j    an  ^^ub^rable    hccist ;     for  *  thi^    Frenchman    had   been 

awkward  enough  to  place  himself  on  the  opposite  side 

'   from  the  shade  thrown  by  the  verdant  and  majestic  heads 

of  the  palm-trees. 

He  looked  at  these  trees  with  a  start.  They  reminded 
him  of  the  graceful  shafts  crowned  with  long  leaves  which 
distinguished  the  Saracen  columns  of  the  cathedral  at 
Aries.  But  when,  after  having  counted  the  palms,  he 
cast  his  eyes  on  the  surrounding  plain,  the  most  frightful 
despair  settled  on  his  soul.  He  saw  a  limitless  ocean. 
The  da^  sands  of  the  desert  extended  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  in  every  direction,  and  glittered  like  a  steel 
blade  in  bright  sunlight.  It  appeared  to  Inm  like  a 
sea_of  glass,  or  a  succession  of  lakes  united  as  a  folding 
mirror.  Borne  upward  in  great  billows,  a  fiery 
vapor  seethed  above  the  quivering  earth.  The  sky  had 
an  OrienfaT  brilliance  and  a  provoking  purity,  which  no 
power  of  imagination  could  surpass.  The  sky  and  earth 
were  on  fire.  The  silence  was  avv^ful  in  its  savage  and 
terrible  majesty.  Infinite  immensity  in  every  direction 
weighed  down  upon  the  soul :  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky, 
.  not  a  breath  in  the  air,  not  a  speck  on  the  bosom  of  the 
^••desert,  heaving  in  almost  invisible  waves.  The  horizon 
ended,  as  it  does  at  sea  on  a  clear  day,  in  one  line  of 
light  as  sharp  as  the  cut  of  a  sabre.  The  man  hugged 
the  trunk  of  one  of  the  palms  as  if  it  had  been  the  body 
of  a  friend ;  then,  in  the  shelter  of  the  narrow  shadow 
which  the  tree  threw  upon  the  granite  rock,  he  wept  as 
he  sat  immovable,  contemplating  with  profound  sadness 
the  relentless  scene  which  presented  itself  to  his  eyes. 
He  cried  out,  to  try  the  solitude.  His  voice,  lost  in  the 
hollows  of  the  hill,  returned  a  feeble  sound  far  off  with- 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  139 

out  wakening  an  answering  echo  :  the  echo  was  in  his 
own  heart.  The  Frenchman  was  twenty-two  years  old. 
He  loaded  his  carbine  :  "  It  will  always  be  ready,"  he 
said  to  himself  as  he  placed  on  the  ground  the  means  of 
his  deliverance. 

Looking  now  at  the  black  expanse,  now  at  the  blue 
expanse,  the  soldier  dreamed  of  France.  He  smelt  with 
delight  the  gutters  of  Paris,  he  recalled  the  towns  through 
which  he  had  passed,  the  faces  of  his  comrades,  and  the 
slightest  circumstances  of  his  life's  history.  Indeed,  his 
tropical  imagination  made  him  behold  the  stones  of  his 
native  Provence  in  the  play  of  the  heat  which  undulated 
over  the  limitless  face  of  the  desert. 

Frightened  at  the  danger  which  this  cruel  hallucination 
portended,  he  went  down  the  opposite  side  of  the  hill 
from  that  he  had  come  up  the  evening  before.  Great 
was  his  joy  on  discovering  a  kind  of  grotto,  naturally 
shaped  in  the  immense  blocks  of  granite  which  formed 
the  base  of  the  tiny  mountain.  The  remains  of  a  mat 
announced  that  this  retreat  had  once  been  inhabited, 
A  few  steps  farther  on,  he  saw  some  trees  loaded  with 
dates.  Then  the  instinct  which  draws  us  to  life  re- 
awakened in  his  heart.  He  hoped  he  might  live  long 
enough  to  attract  the  notice  of  some  passing  Maugrabins, 
or,  perhaps,  hear  once  more  the  roar  of  cannon ;  for,  at 
this  moment,  Bonaparte  was  overrunning  Egypt. 

Roused  by  this  thought,  he  knocked  down  some  ripe 
fruit  to  eat,  for  the  date-trees  seemed  bending  under  the 
weight  of  it,  and  in  the  taste  of  this  unhoped-for  manna 
he  found  assurance  that  the  inhabitant  of  the  cave  had 
cultivated  the  trees.  The  fresh,  savory  meat  argued  the 
care  of  his  predecessor.  The  Frenchman  suddenly  passed 
from  the  shadow  of  despair  to  an  almost  idiotic  joy.  He 
remounted  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  occupied  himself 


140  Greatest  Short  Stones 

the  remainder  of  the  day  in  cutting  one  of  the  sterile 
pahns  which  the  night  before  had  served  him  for  shelter. 
A  vague  recollection  made  him  think  of  the  animals  of  the 
desert ;  and  reflecting  that  they  might  come  to  drink  at 
the  spring  which  could  be  seen  at  the  base  of  the  rocks, 
but  disappeared  in  the  sands,  he  resolved  to  guard  him- 
self by  placing  a  barrier  at  the  entrance  to  his  retreat. 
In  spite  of  his  toil,  in  spite  of  the  strength  given  by 
the  fear  of  being  devoured  in  his  sleep,  he  found  it  im- 
possible to  cut  the  palm  into  pieces  that  day;  but  he 
succeeded  in  felling  it.  When,  toward  evening,  this 
king  of  the  desert  toppled  over,  the  noise  of  its  fall  re- 
sounded far  and  wide,  and  it  was  like  a  moan  uttered  by 
the  solitude.  The  soldier  shuddered  at  it,  as  if  he 
heard  a  voice  predicting  misery.  But  like  an  heir  who 
does  not  long  mourn  the  death  of  a  parent,  he  despoiled 
the  beautiful  tree  of  the  broad  green  leaves  which  are  its 
poetic  adornment,  and  made  use  of  them  to  repair  the 
mat  on  which  he  was  to  sleep. 

Worn  out  by  the  heat  and  the  labor,  he  fell  asleep 
under  the  red  roof  of  his  damp  cave. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  his  sleep  was  disturbed  by 
an  unusual  noise.  He  sat  up,  and  the  deep  silence  which 
reigned  about  him  permitted  him  to  recognize  the  alter- 
nating accents  of  a  respiration  whose  savage  energy  could 
belong  to  no  human  creature.  A  profound  fear,  increased 
by  the  gloom,  the  silence,  and  the  phantoms  of  imagina- 
tion, froze  his  heart.  He  almost  felt  his  hair  stand  on  end 
when,  dilating  the  pupils  of  his  eyes,  he  perceived  in  the 
shadow  two  feeble  yellow  sparks.  At  first  he  attributed 
these  lights  to  some  reflection  of  his  own  eyeballs ;  but 
soon,  as  the  brilliancy  of  the  night  assisted  him  gradually 
to  distinguish  the  various  objects  within  the  cave,  he  per- 
ceived an  enormous  animal  lying  only  two  steps  away. 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  141 

Was  it  a  lion,  a  tiger,  or  a  crocodile  ?  The  Frenchman 
was  unable  to  tell  under  what  species  his  enemy  should 
be  classed,  but  his  fright  was  all  the  greater  because  his 
lack  of  knowledge  made  him  imagine  every  misfortune 
at  once.  He  endured  the  cruel  torture  of  listening,  of 
catching  every  variation  in  that  respiration  and  missing 
nothing,  without  daring  to  make  the  slightest  movement. 
An  odor  as  strong  as  that  exhaled  by  foxes,  but  more 
penetrating,  more  serious,  so  to  speak,  filled  the  grotto ; 
and  when  the  Frenchman  perceived  this  smell,  his  terror 
became  overwhelming,  for  he  could  no  longer  regard 
with  doubt  the  existence  of  a  terrible  companion,  whose 
royal  den  served  as  his  place  of  bivouac.  Soon  the  re- 
flection of  the  moon  as  it  neared  the  horizon  illumined 
the  cave  and  by  insensible  degrees  revealed  the  resplen- 
dent spotted  coat  of  a  panther. 

This  lion  of  Egypt  was  sleeping,  curled  up  like  a  great 
dog,  the  peaceable  possessor  of  a  sumptuous  corner  at 
the  door  of  this  hostelry ;  its  eyes  opened  for  a  moment, 
then  closed  again.  Its  face  was  turned  toward  the  French- 
man. A  thousand  confused  thoughts  passed  through  the 
mind  of  the  panther's  prisoner.  At  first  he  thought  of 
killing  it  with  a  shot  from  his  gun,  but  he  soon  saw 
there  was  not  room  enough  to  take  aim,  and  that  the 
shot  would  fail  to  take  effect.  And  if  it  should  awake  ! 
The  supposition  made  him  stiff  with  fear.  Listening  to 
the  beating  of  his  own  heart,  clearly  heard  in  the  silence, 
he  cursed  the  too  strong  pulsations  which  the  rush  of 
blood  produced,  fearing  to  disturb  that  sleep  which  al- 
lowed him  time  to  think  of  some  expedient  to  preserve 
his  life.  Twice  he  placed  his  hand  on  his  scimiter  with 
the  design  of  cutting  off  the  head  of  his  enemy,  but  the 
difficulty  of  cutting  through  the  stiff  short  hair  obliged 
him  to  renounce  this  daring  project.     To  fail  ?  that  would 


1^2  Greatest  Short  Stories 

surely  mean  death,  thought  he.  He  preferred  the  chances 
of  combat,  and  resolved  to  await  the  day. 

And  the  day  did  not  give  him  long  to  wait.  The 
Frenchman  could  now  examine  the  panther :  its  muzzle 
was  smeared  with  blood.  "  She  has  had  a  good  meal," 
he  thought  with  no  disquieting  conjecture  that  she  might 
have  been  feasting  on  human  flesh.  "  She  will  not  be 
hungry  when  she  wakes  up." 

It  was  a  female.  The  fur  on  the  belly  and  thighs  was 
a  brilliant  white.  Several  marks  that  looked  like  velvet 
formed  pretty  anklets.  The  muscular  tail  was  also  white, 
but  terminated  in  black  rings.  The  upper  part  of  the 
coat,  yellow  as  unburnished  gold,  but  sleek  and  soft,  bore 
the  characteristic  tufts  shaded  off  like  roses,  which  serve 
to  distinguish  panthers  from  other  members  of  the  feline 
family.  This  tranquil  and  redoubtable  hostess  breathed 
heavily  as  she  lay  in  an  attitude  as  graceful  as  that  of  a 
cat  on  a  rug  by  the  fire.  Her  blood-stained  paws,  ner- 
vous and  well  armed,  extended  in  front  of  her  head,  which 
rested  upon  them,  and  from  which  extended  her  thin, 
straight  whiskers,  like  threads  of  silver  If  she  had  been 
in  a  cage,  forsooth,  the  Frenchman  would  certainly  have 
^^  admired  the  grace  of  this  beast,  and  the  sharp  contrasts 
'"^'  of  living  colors  which  gave  to  her  coat  an  imperial  splen- 
dor ;  but  at  this  moment  his  vision  was  troubled  by  this 
sinister  apparition.  The  presence  of  the  panther,  even 
asleep,  could  not  fail  of  the  effect  said  to  be  produced 
by  the  magnetic  eyes  of  the  serpent  on  the  nightingale. 
The  soldier's  courage  vanished  for  a  moment  before 
this  danger,  though  doubtless  it  would  have  risen  at 
the  mouth  of  a  cannon  belching  forth  grape-shot.  How- 
ever, one  bold  thought  made  daylight  in  his  heart  and 
sealed  up  the  pores  from  which  the  cold  sweat  had 
been  oozing  out  on  his  forehead.     Hardy  as  those  men 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  143 

who,  driven  to  the  last  extremity,  come  to  defy  death 
and  offer  themselves  to  her  fell  blows,  he  resolved  to 
view  this  adventure  merely  as  a  tragic  drama,  and  play 
out  his  part  with  honor  to  the  final  scene. 

"  Day  before  yesterday,  perhaps  the  Arabs  would 
have  killed  me,"  said  he  to  himself.  Considering  him- 
self as  dead,  he  awaited  bravely  and  with  anxious  curi- 
osity the  awakening  of  his  enemy. 

When  the  sun  appeared,  the  panther  suddenly  opened 
her  eyes ;  then  she  violently  stretched  out  her  paws  as 
if  to  get  rid  of  the  cramps  ;  at  last  she  yawned,  and 
thereby  displayed  a  frightful  row  of  teeth  and  a  slender 
tongue,  as  rough  as  a  rasp. 

"  A  regular  little  mistress  !  "  thought  the  Frenchman, 
as  he  watched  her  roll  about  in  the  most  graceful  and 
coquettish  movements.  She  licked  off  the  blood  which 
smeared  her  paws  and  muzzle,  and  scratched  her  head 
with  repeated  strokes  full  of  prettiness.  "  Well !  making 
a  bit  of  a  toilet !  "  he  said  to  himself,  recovering  his 
spirits  with  the  return  of  his  courage.  "  We  shall  pres- 
ently be  wishing  each  other  good  morning."  And  he 
seized  the  short  little  dagger  which  he  had  taken  from 
the  Maugrabins. 

At  this  moment  the  panther  turned  her  head  toward 
the  Frenchman  and  looked  at  him  steadily  without  mov- 
ing. The  fixity  of  her  metallic  eyes  and  their  insupport- 
able brightness  made  the  man  shudder,  especially  when 
the  beast  walked  toward  him  ;  but  he  watched  her  with 
a  caressing  gaze,  staring  at  her  as  if  to  hypnotize  her, 
and  let  her  come  quite  near  him.  Then,  by  a  movement 
as  gentle  and  as  amorous  as  if  he  had  been  caressing 
the  prettiest  woman  in  the  world,  he  passed  his  hand 
over  her  body  from  the  head  to  the  tail,  scratching  the 
flexible  vertebrae  which  marked  the  panther's  yellow  back. 


144  Greatest  Short  Stories 

The  beast  voluptuously  straightened  her  tail,  and  her  eyes 
grew  gentle.  And  when  for  the  third  time  the  French- 
man accomplished  this  effective  flattery,  she  began  to 
purr,  as  our  cats  do  in  expressing  their  pleasure  ;  but 
this  murmur  proceeded  from  a  throat  so  powerful  and 
deep,  that  it  resounded  through  the  cave  like  the  bass 
chords  of  a  church  organ. 

The  Frenchman,  realizing  the  importance  of  these  ca- 
resses, redoubled  them  in  a  way  to  surprise,  to  stupefy 
this  imperious  coquette.  When  he  felt  assured  of  having 
extinguished  the  ferocity  of  his  capricious  companion, 
whose  hunger  had  so  fortunately  been  satisfied  the  even- 
ing before,  he  rose  to  go  out  of  the  cave.  The  panther 
indeed  let  him  pass  ;  but  when  he  had  ascended  the  hill, 
she  came  bounding  up  with  the  lightness  of  a  sparrow 
hopping  from  branch  to  branch,  and  began  rubbing  her- 
self against  the  soldier's  legs,  putting  up  her  back  like 
all  the  race  of  cats.  Then,  regarding  her  guest  with  an 
eye  whose  brilliancy  had  become  somewhat  less  inflexi- 
ble, she  uttered  that  savage  cry  which  naturalists  compare 
to  the  grating  of  a  saw. 

"  She  is  exacting  !  "  cried  the  Frenchman  with  a  smile. 
He  ventured  to  play  with  her  ears,  to  caress  her  belly, 
and  vigorously  to  scratch  her  head  with  his  finger-nails ; 
and,  perceiving  his  success,  he  tickled  the  top  of  her 
head  with  the  point  of  his  dagger,  watching  for  the  pro- 
pitious moment  to  kill  her ;  but  the  hardness  of  the  bone 
made  him  tremble  lest  he  should  not  succeed. 

The  sultana  of  the  desert  indicated  her  acceptance  of 
the  attentions  of  her  slave  by  raising  her  head,  stretching 
her  neck,  displaying  her  infatuation  by  the  tranquillity  of 
her  demeanor.  The  Frenchman  suddenly  fancied  that 
to  assassinate  this  sav-age  princess  at  a  single  stroke,  he 
must  stab  her  in  the  throat,  and  he  raised  the  blade, 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  145 

when  the  panther,  doubtless  surfeited,  lay  down  at  his 
feet,  from  time  to  time  casting  up  glances  at  him,  in 
which,  in  spite  of  their  native  fierceness,  was  mingled  a 
confused  goodwill.  The  poor  fellow  ate  some  dates, 
leaning  against  one  of  the  palms,  in  turn  casting  a  search- 
ing eye  on  the  desert  to  see  if  he  might  discern  a  libera- 
tor, and  on  his  terrible  companion  that  he  might  watch 
her  uncertain  clemency.  The  panther  kept  looking  at 
the  place  where  the  date  stones  fell,  and  each  time  he 
threw  one  down,  her  eyes  expressed  a  certain  mistrust 
and  incredulity.  She  examined  the  Frenchman  with  the 
prudence  of  a  merchant ;  but  this  examination  was  fa- 
vorable to  him,  for  when  he  had  finished  his  meagre  re- 
past she  licked  his  shoes,  and,  with  a  tongue  rough  and 
strong,  she  removed  in  a  marvellous  manner  the  dust 
that  had  hardened  in  the  creases. 

"  But  when  she  shall  be  hungry  !  "  thought  the  French- 
man. In  spite  of  the  shudder  which  this  thought  caused 
him,  the  soldier  began  from  curiosity  to  measure  the  pro- 
portions of  the  panther,  certainly  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful individuals  of  the  species,  for  she  was  three  feet 
high,  and  five  feet  long,  without  counting  her  tail.  This 
powerful  member,  shaped  like  a  cudgel,  was  almost  three 
feet  long.  The  head,  almost  as  large  as  that  of  a  lion, 
was  distinguished  by  an  expression  of  rare  craftiness ; 
the  cold  cruelty  of  the  tiger  dominated  it,  but  there  was 
also  a  vague  resemblance  to  the  face  of  an  artful  woman. 
The  fact  is,  at  this  moment  the  face  of  this  solitary  queen 
revealed  a  gayety  not  unlike  that  of  a  drunken  Nero  :  she 
had  satiated  herself  with  blood  and  she  wished  to  play. 

The  soldier  began  to  walk  up  and  down ;  the  panther 
left  him  free,  contenting  herself  with  following  the  move- 
ments of  her  master  with  her  eyes,  indeed  resembling 
less  a  faithful  dog,  than  a  great  restless  angora.     When 


146  Greatest  Short  Stories 

he  turned  he  saw  by  the  spring  the  remains  of  his  horse  : 
the  panther  had  dragged  the  carcass  all  tliat  distance. 
About  two  thirds  ha(i  been  devoured.  The  sight  gave 
reassurance.  It  was  now  easy  to  explain  the  absence  of 
the  panther,  and  why  she  had  respected  his  slumbers. 
This  first  piece  of  good  fortune  emboldened  him  to 
tempt  the  future.  He  conceived  the  fond  hope  of  living 
comfortably  with  the  panther  during  the  entire  day,  of 
course  neglecting  no  means  of  taming  her  and  conciliat 
ing  her.  He  came  back  to  her  and  had  the  unspeakable 
happiness  of  seeing  her  wag  her  tail  in  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible movement.  He  then  sat  down  without  fear 
beside  her,  and  the  two  began  to  play ;  he  fondled  her 
paws,  her  muzzle  ;  he  pulled  her  ears ;  he  rolled  her 
over  on  her  back,  and  vigorously  scratched  her  warm,  silky 
flanks.  She  allowed  him  to  do  as  he  would,  and  when 
he  undertook  to  stroke  the  hair  on  her  paws,  she  carefully 
drew  in  her  claws,  which  were  curved  like  damsons.  The 
Frenchman,  keeping  his  hand  on  his  dagi2;er,  thought 
even  of  plunging  it  into  the  belly  of  the  too  trustful  pan- 
ther ;  but  he  feared  being  strangled  in  the  last  convulsion 
which  would  seize  her.  And  besides,  he  felt  in  his  heart 
a  sort  of  compunction  which  cried  out  to  him  to  respect 
an  inoffensive  creature.  He  seemed  to  have  found  a 
friend  in  this  limitless  desert.  Involuntarily  he  called  up 
the  memory  of  his  first  mistress,  whom  he  had  named 
Mignonne,  by  opposition  of  phrase,  because  she  was  so 
insanely  jealous  that,  during  the  entire  time  their  passion 
lasted,  he  was  in  fear  of  the  knife  with  which  she  con- 
tinually threatened  him.  This  memory  of  his  youth 
suggested  the  idea  of  teaching  this  young  panther  to 
answer  to  the  name,  now  that  he  strangely  enough  began 
to  regard  with  less  terror  her  agility,  grace,  and  supple- 
ness. 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  147 

Toward  the  end  of  the  day  he  had  become  accustomed 
to  his  perilous  situation,  and  he  ahnost  enjoyed  the  pain- 
fulness  of  it.  Indeed,  his  companion  had  come  habitu- 
ally to  look  at  him  when  he  cried  out  in  a  falsetto  voice, 
"  Mignonne  !  "  At  sunset  Mignonne  uttered  several 
times  a  deep  and  melancholy  cry. 

"  She  has  been  well  brought  up  !  "  thought  the  gay- 
hearted  soldier ;  "  she  says  her  prayers."  But  this 
mental  pleasantry  came  into  his  mind  only  after  he  had 
remarked  the  quiet  demeanor  which  his  companion  con- 
tinued to  preserve.  "  Come,  my  pretty  blonde,  I  will  let 
you  go  to  bed  first,"  said  he,  counting  on  the  activity  of 
his  own  legs  to  escape  as  quickly  as  possible  when  she 
should  be  asleep,  and  find  out  another  lodging  during 
the  night. 

The  soldier  awaited  with  impatience  the  hour  of  his 
flight,  and  when  it  arrived  he  ran  swiftly  in  the  direction 
of  the  Nile ;  but  hardly  had  he  made  a  quarter  of  a 
league  in  the  sand  when  he  heard  the  panther  bounding 
after  him,  and  uttering  at  intervals  that  rasping  cry,  more 
frightening  even  than  the  sound  of  her  leaping. 

"  Hello  !  "  said  he,  "  she  has  taken  me  into  her  affec- 
tions. Perhaps  this  young  panther  has  never  before  met 
any  one.  It  is  flattering  to  have  her  first  love."  At 
that  moment  the  man  fell  into  one  of  those  quicksands 
so  dreaded  by  travellers,  since  it  is  impossible  to  es- 
cape from  them.  Feeling  that  he  was  fast,  he  gave  forth 
a  cry  of  alarm.  The  panther  seized  him  by  the  collar 
with  her  teeth,  and  leaping  backward  with  vigor,  she 
dragged  him  from  the  abyss  as  by  magic. 

"  Ah,   Mignonne  !  "    cried  the    soldier,  caressing  her 
with  warmth,  "  it  is  now  for  life  and  for  death  between 
us.     But  no  tricks  !  "     And  he  retraced  his  steps. 
Thenceforth   the  desert  seemed    inhabited.     It   con- 


148  Greatest  Short  Stories 

tained  a  being  to  whom  the  man  could  talk,  whose 
ferocity  had  been  softened  for  him,  though  he  was  un- 
able to  explain  the  reasons  for  this  remarkable  friend- 
ship. Powerful  as  was  the  soldier's  desire  to  remain 
on  his  guard,  he  fell  asleep.  On  awaking  he  could 
see  Mignonne  nowhere.  He  mounted  the  hill,  and  in 
the  distance  he  discerned  her  bounding  along,  as  is 
the  habit  of  these  animals,  since  running  is  prevented 
by  the  extreme  flexibility  of  the  spinal  column. 

Mignonne  arrived,  her  lips  covered  with  blood.  She 
received  the  inevitable  caresses  that  her  companion  gave 
her,  testifying  by  much  deep  purring  how  happy  it 
made  her.  Her  eyes,  filled  with  languor,  turned  on  the 
Frenchman  even  more  gently  than  the  night  before, 
and  he  spoke  to  her  as  to  a  domestic  animal. 

"  Ah  1  ah  !  mademoiselle  !  why,  you  're  a  fine  girl, 
are  n't  you  ?  Just  see  !  We  like  to  be  flattered,  don't 
we  !  Are  n't  you  ashamed  of  yourself  ?  Have  you 
eaten  a  Maugrabin  ?  Oh,  well !  they  are  no  better  than 
animals  like  you.  But  don't  go  to  eating  Frenchmen,  or 
I  shan't  like  you  any  more  1 " 

She  played  as  a  young  dog  plays  with  his  master, 
letting  herself  be  rolled  over,  slapped,  and  caressed  by 
turns;  and  sometimes  she  would  tempt  the  soldier, 
thrusting  out  her  paw  to  him  with  a  gesture  of  solici- 
tation. 

Some  days  passed  in  this  manner.  This  compan- 
ionship allowed  the  Frenchman  to  admire  the  sublime 
beauties  of  the  desert.  Now  that  he  had  found  periods 
of  fear  and  of  tranquillity,  food,  and  a  creature  to 
occupy  his  thoughts,  life  began  to  have  variety  for 
him.  It  was  an  existence  full  of  contrasts.  The  soli- 
tude revealed  to  him  all  her  secrets,  and  enveloped 
him  with  her  charms.      In    the  rising  and    the  setting 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  149 

of  the  sun  he  found  spectacles  unknown  to  the  civilized 
world.  He  knew  what  it  was  to  tremble  when  he 
heard  over  his  head  the  soft  whirr  of  the  wings  of  a 
bird —  rare  visitor,  — or  when  he  saw  the  clouds,  those 
changing  and  many  colored  travellers,  melting  into  one 
another.  At  night  he  studied  the  effect  of  the  moon 
on  the  ocean  of  sand,  in  which  the  simoom  produced 
quickly  changing  billows  and  undulations.  He  lived 
the  life  of  the  Orient,  wondering  at  its  marvellous 
pomps ;  and  often,  after  having  enjoyed  the  terrible 
spectacle  of  a  hurricane  on  this  plain,  where  the  sands 
were  lifted  up  and  formed  red,  dry  mists,  death- 
bearing  clouds,  he  watched  with  joy  for  the  coming 
of  night,  for  then  a  healing  refreshment  fell  from  the 
stars,  to  whose  imaginary  music  he  would  listen.  Then 
solitude  taught  him  to  unroll  the  treasures  of  dreams. 
He  spent  whole  hours  in  the  recollection  of  nothings, 
comparing  his  past  life  with  his  present.  At  last  he 
conceived  a  passion  for  the  panther ;  for  it  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  that  he  have  some  object  of  affec- 
tion. Whether  his  will,  powerfully  projected,  had 
modified  the  character  of  his  companion,  or  she  found 
abundant  nourishment,  thanks  to  the  fighting  then 
going  on  in  the  desert,  she  respected  the  life  of  the 
Frenchman,  and  he  ended  by  abandoning  his  mistrust, 
so  thoroughly  tamed  did  she  appear.  He  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  in  sleep,  but  he  was  obliged 
to  watch,  like  a  spider  in  the  heart  of  her  web,  that 
the  moment  of  his  deliverance  might  not  escape  him, 
when  some  one  should  pass  across  the  circle  marked 
by  the  horizon.  He  had  given  up  his  shirt  to  make 
a  flag,  which  he  hoisted  at  the  top  of  a  palm  branch 
stripped  of  its  leaves.  Taught  by  necessity,  he  found 
out    how    to  keep  it  spread    out    by    stretching    it   on 


150  Greatest  Short  Stories 

little  twigs,  since  the  wind  might  not  make  it  wave  at 
the  moment  when  some  passing  traveller  in  the  desert 
was  looking  in  that  direction. 

It  was  during  the  long  hours  in  which  hope  abandoned 
him  that  he  amused  himself  with  the  panther.  He  had 
come  to  know  the  varying  inflections  of  her  voice,  and 
the  expression  of  her  eyes  ;  he  had  studied  every  spot 
in  the  markings  and  shadings  of  her  golden  coat.  Mi- 
gnonne  did  not  even  snarl  when  he  took  hold  of  the  tuft 
on  her  redoubtable  tail,  to  count  the  black  and  white  rings, 
those  graceful  ornaments  which  shone  in  the  sunlight 
like  jewels.  He  took  pleasure  in  contemplating  the  deli- 
cate and  fine  lines  of  her  contour,  the  whiteness  of  her 
belly,  the  grace  of  her  head  ;  but  especially  did  he  take 
delight  in  watching  her  at  play,  and  he  constantly  won- 
dered at  her  suppleness  and  youthfulness  of  movement ; 
he  could  not  but  admire  the  graceful  way  in  which  she 
would  leap,  creep,  slip,  insinuate  herself,  seize  upon 
anything,  roll  over,  crouch  down,  and  then  spring  away. 
However  rapid  her  leap,  or  slippery  the  rock  under  her 
feet,  she  would  stop  in  an  instant  at  the  word  "  Mi- 
gnonne." 

One  day,  when  the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  an  im- 
mense bird  cut  through  the  air.  The  Frenchman  left 
his  panther,  to  examine  this  new  visitor;  but  after  a 
moment's  waiting,  the  deserted  sultana  gave  a  harsh 
growl. 

"  My  God,  I  believe  she  is  jealous  !  "  he  cried,  as  he 
saw  her  eyes  becoming  hard  again.  "  The  soul  of  Vir- 
ginia has  passed  into  her  body ;  that  is  quite  evident.  " 

The  eagle  disappeared  in  the  upper  air  while  the  sol- 
dier admired  the  rounded  back  of  the  panther.  Ah,  there 
was  such  grace  and  youthful  beauty  in  her  contour  !  She 
was  as  pretty  as  a  woman.     The   light   fur  of  her  coat 


A  Passion  in  the  Desert  i^i 

j^ 

harmonized  perfectly  with  the  fine  tones  of  dull  white 
which  marked  her  flanks.  The  brilliant  light  of  the  sun 
made  this  living  gold  fairly  to  blaze  round  the  dusky 
spots,  leading  an  indefinable  fascination.  The  French- 
man and  the  panther  looked  at  each  other  with  an  air  of 
perfect  understanding.  The  coquette  quivered  when  she 
felt  the  nails  of  her  friend  scratching  her  head,  her  eyes 
shone  like  two  flashes  of  lightning,  and  then  she  shut 
them  tightly. 

"She  has  a  soul,"  he  said,  as  he  studied  the  tranquil- 
lity of  this  queen  of  the  sands,  golden  hke  them,  white 
like  them,  solitary  and  burning  like  them. 


"  Well  !  "  said  she  to  me,  "  I  have  read  your  plea  in 
favor  of  beasts ;  but  how  did  it  end  with  these  two 
persons   so   well  suited    to   comprehend  each  other?" 

"Ah,  you  see,  it  ended  for  them,  as  in  the  case  of  all 
grand  passions,  with  a  misunderstanding.  One  suspects 
the  other  of  treason  ;  there  is  no  explanation,  because  of 
pride  ;  and  they  fall  out  through  stubbornness." 

"And  sometimes,  at  a  happy  moment,"  said  she,  "a 
look,  an  exclamation  is  sufficient.  But  —  come,  finish 
the  story." 

"It  is  horribly  difficult ;  but  after  what  the  old  villain 
had  already  confided  to  me,  you  will  understand,  when 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  finished  his  bottle  of  champagne  : 
*  I  do  not  know  what  injury  I  had  done  her,  but  she 
turned  as  if  enraged,  and  with  her  sharp  teeth  seized  me 
by  the  leg,  certainly  with  no  great  violence.  But  I, 
thinking  she  was  about  to  devour  me,  plunged  my  dagger 
into  her  neck.  She  rolled  over,  uttering  a  cry  which 
froze  my  heart.     I  saw  her  struggling,  still  watching  me 


152  Greatest  Short  Stories 

but  without  anger.  I  would  liave  given  the  world,  my 
cross  (which  I  had  not  then  received),  to  bring  her  back 
to  life.  It  was  as  if  I  had  assassinated  a  real  person. 
And  the  soldiers,  who  had  seen  my  signal  and  had 
hastened   to   my    rescue,    found   me   in   tears. 

"  'Ah,  well,  monsieur,'  he  went  on  after  a  moment  of 
silence,  '  I  have  been  a  campaigner  in  Germany,  in  Spain, 
in  Russia,  in  France ;  I  have  marched  this  carcass  of 
mine  about  a  good  deal,  but  I  have  never  seen  anything 
to  resemble  the  desert.     Ah,  yes  !  it  is  very  beautiful.' 

"  '  How  did  it  affect  you?  '   I  inquired. 

"  '  Oh  !  that  is  impossible  to  describe,  young  man. 
Besides,  I  am  not  always  regretting  my  bunch  of  palms 
and  my  panther.  I  should  be  forever  melancholy  if  I 
did  that.  In  the  desert,  you  see,  there  is  everything, 
and  there  is  nothing.' 

"  •  But  can't  you  explain  ?  ' 

"  '  Well,'  he  replied,  a  gesture  of  impatience  escaping 
him,  '  it  is  God  without  man.'  " 


V 

A    CHILD'S    DREAM    OF    A    STAR 


A    CHILD'S    DREAM    OF   A    STAR 

Bv   CHARLES   DICKENS 

INTRODUCTORY 
PATHETIC    SENTIMENT 

IN  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  we  find  the  beginning 
of  humor,  —  not  the  serious  humor  of  a 
sea  of  sentiment,  which  rises  alternately  in 
crested  waves  of  pure  fun,  only  to  sink  the  next 
instant  into  the  depths  of  pathos,  but  the  whim- 
sical lightness  of  the  essayist.  In  Dickens  we  find 
the  humor  of  sentiment  closely  united  with  its 
counterpart,  the  pathetic.  Sentiment  is  in  Dick- 
ens a  peculiar  enveloping  atmosphere  of  tender- 
ness, —  a  mild  and  moist  air  quite  diff"erent  from 
the  heated  breath  of  passion.  As  a  source  of 
popularity,  it  is  to  English  fiction  what  passion 
is  to  the  French.  It  is  a  soothing  opiate,  mildly 
stimulating,  and  infinitely  restful,  and  to  the  mul- 
titude it  often  excuses  an  endless  catalogue  of 
sins.  We  may  almost  say  that  no  artist  can  be 
permanently  popular  without  it,  —  certainly  no 
artist  of  the  strictly  realistic  school ;  and  even 
romance  ceases  to  hold  the  throng  of  its  admir- 


156  Greatest  Short  Stories 

ers,  long  before  sentiment  yields  an  iota  of  its 
popularity. 

The  master  of  sentiment  is  Dickens,  and  in  no 
other  writer  can  it  be  studied  so  effectively.  In 
him  we  may  find  all  kinds  of  sentiment,  corres- 
ponding with  the  variety  of  life  which  he  repre- 
sents. Curiously  enough  pathetic  sentiment  seems 
to  be  better  adapted  to  the  short  story  than  hum- 
orous sentiment.  Perhaps  this  is  because  humor 
cannot  be  concentrated  in  a  short  space  so  easily 
as  pathos  can.  In  the  short  story  intensity  takes 
the  place  of  variety,  and  the  shorter  the  story  the 
more  intense  it  must  be  made  in  order  to  secure 
the  reader's  interest. 

Until  fiction  appropriated  it,  sentiment,  both 
pathetic  and  humorous,  was  the  peculiar  posses- 
sion of  the  ballad  and  the  song.  It  cannot  be 
expressed  in  simple  narrative  prose,  such  as  we 
found  in  "  Patient  Griselda  "  and  "  Aladdin,"  but 
requires  a  special  structure  which  shall  utilize 
some  of  the  characteristics  of  verse,  but  in  a  free 
and  untrammelled  way.  Verse  is  mechanical  and 
fixed,  while  prose  is  perfectly  pliant  and  adapt- 
able. Modern  writers  have  found  means  to  pro- 
duce all  the  effects  of  poetry  in  prose,  and  have 
even  proved  that  in  its  possibilities  of  expression 
prose  is  vastly  superior  to  verse.  The  effective- 
ness of  the  artist's  personal  skill  is  correspond- 
ingly greater  with  the  increase  of  his  opportunities 
and  the  removal  from  mechanical  forms.     In  "  A 


A  Child's  Dream  of  a  Star         157 


Child's  Dream  of  a  Star"  we  find  some  of  the  de- 
vices  of  the  prose  poet,  such   as   the   chorus-like  ^ 
repetition,  and  the  balanced  and  cumulative  struc-v'      '  , 
tures.     But  in  the  musical  element  Dicken^.  was       y 

A^OHILD'S   DREAM   OF   A   STA^   '^ 

THERE  was  once  a  child,  and  he  strolled  about  a 
good  deal,  and  thought  of  a  number  of  things.  He 
had  a  sister,  who  was  a  child  too,  and  his  constant  com- 
panion. These  two  used  to  wonder  all  day  long.  They 
wondered  at  the  beauty  of  the  flowers ;  they  wondered 
at  the  height  and  blueness  of  the  sky ;  they  wondered  at 
the  depth  of  the  bright  water ;  they  wondered  at  the 
goodness  and  the  power  of  God  who  made  the  lovely 
world. 

They  used  to  say  to  one  another,  sometimes,  Sup- 
posing all  the  children  upon  earth  were  to  die,  would 
the  flowers,  and  the  water,  and  the  sky  be  sorry? 
They  believed  they  would  be  sorry.  For,  said  they, 
the  buds  are  the  children  of  the  flowers,  and  the  little 
playful  streams  that  gambol  down  the  hillsides  are  the 
children  of  the  water ;  and  the  smallest  bright  specks 
playing  at  hide-and-seek  in  the  sky  all  night,  must 
surely  be  the  children  of  the  stars  ;  and  they  would  all 
be  grieved  to  see  their  playmates,  the  children  of  men,  ,  - 
no   more.  ^\ 

There  was  one  clear  shining  star  that  used  to  come 
out  in  the  sky  before  the  rest,  near  the  church-spire, 
above  the  graves.  It  was  larger  and  more  beautiful, 
they  thought,  than  all  the  others,  and  every  night  they 
watched  for  it,  standing  hand  in  hand  at  the  window. 


158  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Whoever  saw  it  first,  cried  out,  "  I  see  the  star  ! "  And 
often  they  cried  out  both  together,  knowing  so  well 
when  it  would  rise,  and  where.  So  they  grew  to  be  such 
friends  with  it,  that  before  lying  down  in  their  beds, 
they  always  looked  out  once  again,  to  bid  it  good  night ; 
and  when  they  were  turning  round  to  sleep,  they  used  to 
say,  "  God  bless  the  star  !  " 

But  while  she  was  still  very  young,  O,  very,  very 
young,  the  sister  drooped,  and  came  to  be  so  weak  that 
she  could  no  longer  stand  in  the  window  at  night ;  and 
then  the  child  looked  sadly  out  by  himself,  and  when  he 
saw  the  star,  turned  round  and  said  to  the  patient  pale 
face  on  the  bed,  "  I  see  the  star  !  "  and  then  a  smile 
would  come  upon  the  face,  and  a  little  weak  voice  used 
to  say,  "  God  bless  my  brother  and  the  star  !  " 

And  so  the  time  came,  all  too  soon  !  when  the  child 
looked  out  alone,  and  when  there  was  no  face  on  the 
bed ;  and  when  there  was  a  little  grave  among  the 
graves,  not  there  before  ;  and  when  the  star  made  long 
rays  down  towards  him,  as  he  saw  it  through  his 
tears. 

Now,  these  rays  were  so  bright,  and  they  seemed  to 
make  such  a  shining  way  from  earth  to  heaven,  that 
when  the  child  went  to  his  solitary  bed,  he  dreamed 
about  the  star ;  and  dreamed  that,  lying  where  he  was, 
he  saw  a  train  of  people  taken  up  that  sparkling  road 
by  angels.  And  the  star,  opening,  showed  him  a  great 
world  of  light,  where  many  more  such  angels  waited  to 
receive  them. 

All  these  angels  who  were  waiting  turned  their  beam- 
ing eyes  upon  the  people  who  were  carried  up  into  the 
star ;  and  some  came  out  from  the  long  rows  in  which 
they  stood,  and  fell  upon  the  people's  necks,  and  kissed 
them  tenderly,  and  went  away  with  them  down  avenues 


A  Child's   Dream  of  a  Star  159 

of  light,  and  were  so  happy  in  their  company,  that  lying 
in  his  bed  he  wept  for  joy. 

But  there  were  many  angels  who  did  not  go  with 
them,  and  among  them  one  he  knew.  The  patient  face 
that  once  had  lain  upon  the  bed  was  glorified  and  radi- 
ant, but  his  heart  found  out  his  sister  among  all  the  host. 
His  sister's  angel  lingered  near  the  entrance  of  the 
star,  and  said  to  the  leader  among  those  who  had 
brought  the  people  thither,  — 

"  Is  my  brother  come  ?  " 

And  he  said,  "  No." 

She  was  turning  hopefully  away,  when  the  child 
stretched  out  his  arms,  and  cried,  "  O  sister,  I  am 
here!  Take  me!"  And  then  she  turned  her  beaming 
eyes  upon  him  and  it  was  night ;  and  the  star  was 
shining  into  the  room,  making  long  rays  down  towards 
him  as  he   saw  it  through   his  tears. 

From  that  hour  forth  the  child  looked  out  upon  the 
star  as  on  the  home  he  was  to  go  to,  when  his  time 
should  come  ;  and  he  thought  that  he  did  not  belong 
to  the  earth  alone,  but  to  the  star  too,  because  of 
his  sister's  angel  gone  before. 

There  was  a  baby  born  to  be  a  brother  to  the  child ; 
and  while  he  was  so  little  that  he  never  yet  had  spoken 
word,  he  stretched  his  tiny  form  out  on  his  bed  and 
died. 

Again  the  child  dreamed  of  the  opened  star,  and  of 
the  company  of  angels,  and  the  train  of  people,  and  the 
rows  of  angels  with  their  beaming  eyes  all  turned  upon 
those  people's  faces. 

Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader. 

"  Is  my  brother  come  ?  " 

And  he  said,  "  Not  that  one,  but  another." 

As  the  child  beheld  his  brother's  angel  in  her  arms, 


i6o  Greatest  Short  Stories 

he  cried,  "  O  sister,  I  am  here  !  Take  me  !  "  And  she 
turned  and  smiled  upon  him,  and  the  star  was  shining. 

He  grew  to  be  a  young  man,  and  was  busy  at  his 
books  when  an  old  servant  came  to  him  and  said,  — 

"  Thy  mother  is  no  more.  I  bring  her  blessing  on 
her  darling  son  !  " 

Again  at  night  he  saw  the  star,  and  all  that  former 
company.     Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader,  — 

"  Is  my  brother  come?  " 

And  he  said,  "  Thy  mother  !  " 

A  mighty  cry  of  joy  went  forth  through  all  the  star, 
because  the  mother  was  reunited  to  her  two  children. 
And  he  stretched  out  his  arms  and  cried,  "  O  mother, 
sister,  and  brother,  I  am  here  !  Take  me  !  "  And  they 
answered  him,  "  Not  yet."     And  the  star  was  shining. 

He  grew  to  be  a  man  whose  hair  was  turning  gray, 
and  he  was  sitting  in  his  chair  by  the  fireside,  heavy 
with  grief,  and  with  his  face  bedewed  with  tears,  when 
the  star  opened  once  again. 

Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader,  "  Is  my  brother 
come?" 

And  he  said,  "  Nay,  but  his  maiden  daughter." 

And  the  man  who  had  been  the  child  saw  his  daugh- 
ter, newly  lost  to  him,  a  celestial  creature  among  those 
three,  and  he  said,  "  My  daughter's  head  is  on  my  sister's 
bosom,  and  her  arm  is  round  my  mother's  neck,  and  at 
her  feet  there  is  the  baby  of  old  time,  and  I  can  bear  the 
parting  from  her,  God  be  praised  1 " 

And  the  star  was  shining. 

Thus  the  child  came  to  be  an  old  man,  and  his  once 
smooth  face  was  wrinkled,  and  his  steps  were  slow  and 
feeble,  and  his  back  was  bent.  And  one  night  as  he 
lay  upon  his  bed,  his  children  standing  round,  he  cried, 
as  he  had  cried  so  long  ago,  — 


A  Child's   Dream  of  a  Star  i6i 

"I  see  the  star  !  " 

They  whispered  one  another,  "  He  is  dying." 

And  he  said,  "  I  am.  My  age  is  falling  from  me  like 
a  garment,  and  I  move  towards  the  star  as  a  child.  And 
O  my  Father,  now  I  thank  thee  that  it  has  so  often 
opened  to  receive   those   dear  ones  who   await  me  !  " 

And  the  star  was  shining ;  and  it  shines  upon  his 
frrave. 


tl 


VI 

A    CHRISTMAS    CAROL 


A    CHRISTMAS    CAROL 

By   CHARLES   DICKENS 

INTRODUCTORY 

HUMOROUS    SENTIMENT 

IF  the  intensity  of  pathetic  sentiment  requires 
condensation,  as  we  found  in  the  case  of 
"  A  Child's  Dream  of  a  Star,"  humorous 
sentiment  requires  expansion.  In  "  A  Christmas 
Carol  "  Dickens  fairly  floats  on  a  sea  of  sentiment 
—  humorous  sentiment,  good-humored  sentiment. 
The  Christmas  season  is  a  time  of  expansion. 
As  the  waistband  enlarges  the  heart  fills  up, 
till  it  bubbles  over  like  a  glass  of  good  ale. 
The  language  in  this  Christmas  story  is  a  series 
of  expanding  flowers,  each  idea  being  a  centre, 
with  words  and  phrases  growing  out  in  every 
direction,  like  petal  laid  on  petal.  Each  scene 
is  a  perfect  nosegay  of  scented  blossoms ;  and 
to  make  the  miracle  more  striking,  Dickens 
brings  all  these  blossoms  out  of  a  dried-up  and 
half-dead  old  stalk,  the  miser  Scrooge. 


1 66  Greatest  Short  Stories 

In  no  story  that  he  ever  wrote  was  Dickens  more 
at  home  than  in  this,  and  in  no  story  has  he  suc- 
ceeded bettor  in  pouring  out  the  full  wealth  of  his 
sentimental  nature.  Harsh  critics  sometimes  say 
that  he  quite  bubbled  over,  and  that  sentiment, 
like  butter,  should  not  be  thicker  than  the  bread  it 
covers.  The  story  was  originally  written  in  fifty 
thousand  words,  and  in  that  form  attained  its 
popularity.  When  he  began  his  series  of  public 
readings  in  America,  the  author  was  called  upon 
to  give  the  "  Carol,"  and  to  bring  it  within  the 
limits  of  an  evening's  entertainment  he  was 
obliged  to  condense  it  to  a  quarter  of  its  original 
length.  In  so  doing  he  made  a  far  better  story 
of  it,  and  it  is  in  this  rewritten  form  that  we  here 
present  it. 

Sentiment  is  without  doubt  the  secret  of  wide 
popularity.  If  one  would  wish  to  know  what  a 
popular  story  is,  let  him  study  this  little  fantastic 
Christmas  tale,  for  no  more  popular  short  story 
was  ever  written.  We  have  compared  Dickens's 
style  to  the  song  and  the  ballad.  The  higher 
poetic  elements  are  lacking.  "  A  Christmas 
Carol "  is  by  no  means  highly  artistic  work. 
We  must  look  elsewhere  for  the  more  refined 
and  intellectual  phases  of  prose  poetry  —  in 
Hawthorne,  for  instance.  But  it  is  doubtful  if 
ever  a  song  or  ballad,  even  when  sung  with  all 
the  appeal  of  a  sympathetic  human  voice,  ever 
touched    the  heart   of  the  people  so  widely  and 


A  Christmas  Carol  167 

so  permanently    as  this  "Carol,"    the   very   name 
of  which   indicates   its  literary  affinities. 


Is     / 
/   A   CHRISTMAS   CAROL 

hj'      ,  STAVE    ONE 

marley's  ghost 

MARLEY  was  dead,  to  begin  with.  There  is  no 
doubt  whatever  about  that.  The  register  of 
his  burial  was  signed  by  the  clergyman,  the  clerk,  the 
undertaker,  and  the  chief  mourner.  Scrooge  signed  it. 
And  Scrooge's  name  was  good  upon  'Change  for  any- 
thing he  chose  to  put  his  hand  to. 

Old  Ma'rley  was  as  dead  asja.-.door-nail. 

Scrooge  knew  he  was  dead  ?  Of  course  he  did.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise?  Scrooge  and  he  were  partners 
for  I  don't  know  how  many  years.  Scrooge  was  his  sole 
executor,  his  sole  administrator,  his  sole  assign,  his  sole 
residuary  legatee,  his  sole  friend,  his  sole  mourner. 

Scrooge  never  painted  out  old  Marley's  name,  how- 
ever. There  it  yet  stood,  years  afterwards,  above  the 
warehouse  door,  —  Scrooge  and  Marley.  The  firm  was 
known  as  Scrooge  and  Marley.  Sometimes  people  new 
to  the  business  called  Scrooge  Scrooge,  and  sometimes 
Marley.  He  answered  to  both  names.  It  was  all  the 
same  to  him. 

Oh  !  But  he  was  a  tight-fisted  hand  at  the  grindstone, 
was  Scrooge  !  a  squeezing,  wrenching,  grasping,  scrap- 
ing, clutching,  covetous  old  sinner  !  External  heat  and 
cold  had  little  influence  on  him.  No  warmth  could 
warm,  no  cold  could  chill  him.  No  wind  that  blew  was 
bitterer  than  he,  no  falling  snow  was  more  intent  upon 


( 


1 68  Greatest  Short  Stories 

its  purpose,  no  pelting  rain  less  open  to  entreaty.  Foul 
weather  did  n't  know  where  to  have  him.  The  heaviest 
rain  and  snow  and  hail  and  sleet  could  boast  of  the 
advantage  over  him  in  only  one  respect,  —  they  often 
"  came  down  "  handsomely,  and  Scrooge  never  did. 

Nobody  ever  stopped  him  in  the  street  to  say,  with 

gladsome    looks,    "My   dear    Scrooge,    how    are    you? 

When  will  you  come  to  see  me?  "     No  beggars  implored 

him   to  bestow  a  trifle,  no   children  asked  him  what  it 

was  o'clock,  no  man  or  woman  ever  once  in  all  his  life 

inquired  the  way  to  such  and  such  a  place,  of  Scrooge. 

Even  the  blind  men's  dogs  appeared  to  know  him  ;   and 

^.  when  they  saw  him  coming  on,  would  tug  their  owners 

into  doorways  and  up  courts ;  and  then  would  wag  their 

tails  as  though  they  said,  "  No  eye  at  all  is  better  than 

an  evil  eye,  dark  master  !  " 

1  "^~"  But  what  did  Scrooge  care  !     It  was  the  very  thing  he 

^  ';.      liked.     To  edge  his  way  along  the  crowded  paths  of  life, 

.  X  ,     warning  all  human  sympathy  to  keep  its  distance,  was 

what  the  knowing  ones  call  "  nuts  "   to  Scrooge. 

Once  upon  a  time  —  of  all  the  good  days  in  the  year, 
'''^       upon  a   Christmas   eve  —  old   Scrooge   sat  busy  in  his 
counting-house.       It    was    cold,   bleak,    biting,     foggy^^ 
weather ;  and  the  city  clocks  had  only  just  gone  three, 
but  it  was  quite  dark  already. 

The  door  of  Scrooge's  counting-house  was  open,  that 
he  might  keep  his  eye  upon  his  clerk,  who,  in  a  dismal 
little  cell  \)eyond,  a  sort  of  tank,  was  copying  letters. 
Scrooge  had  a  very  small  fire,  but  the  clerk's  fire  was  so 
very  much  smaller  that  it  looked  like  one  coal.  But  he 
could  n't  replenish  it,  for  Scrooge  kept  the  coal-box  in 
his  own  room ;  and  so  surely  as  the  clerk  came  in  with 
the  shovel  the  master  predicted  that  it  would  be  neces- 
sary for  them  to  part.     Wherefore  the  clerk  put  on  his 


A  Christmas  Carol  169 

white  comforter,  and  tried  to  warm  himself  at  the  candle  ; 
in  which  effort,  not  being  a  man  of  a  strong  imagination, 
he  failed. 

"A  merry  Christmas,  uncle  !  God  save  you  !  "  cried 
a  cheerful  voice.  It  was  the  voice  of  Scrooge's  nephew, 
who  came  upon  him  so  quickly  that  this  was  the  first  in- 
timation Scrooge  had  of  his  approach. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Scrooge  ;  "  humbug  !  " 

"  Christmas  a  humbug,  uncle  !  You  don't  mean  that, 
I  am  sure?  " 

"  I  do.  Out  upon  merry  Christmas  !  What 's  Christ- 
mas time  to  you  but  a  time  for  paying  bills  without 
money;  a  time  for  finding  yourself  a  year  older,  and 
not  an  hour  richer ;  a  time  for  balancing  your  books  and 
having  every  item  in  'em  through  a  round  dozen  of 
months  presented  dead  against  you?  If  I  had  my  will, 
every  idiot  who  goes  about  with  '  Merry  Christmas  '  on 
his  lips  should  be  boiled  with  his  own  pudding,  and 
buried  with  a  stake  of  holly  through  his  heart !  He 
should  !  " 

'•'  Uncle  !  " 

"  Nephew,  keep  Christmas  in  your  own  way,  and  let 
me  keep  it  in  mine." 

"  Keep  it  !     But  you  don't  keep  it." 

"  Let  me  leave  it  alone,  then.  Much  good  may  it  do 
you  !     Much  good  it  has  ever  done  you  !  " 

"  There  are  many  things  from  which  I  might  have 
derived  good,  by  which  I  have  not  profited,  I  dare  say, 
Christmas  among  the  rest.  But  I  am  sure  I  have  always 
thought  of  Christmas  time,  when  it  has  come  round,  — 
apart  from  the  veneration  due  to  its  sacred  origin,  if 
anything  belonging  to  it  cati  be  apart  from  that,  — as  a 
good  time  ;  a  kind,  forgiving,  charitable,  pleasant  time  ; 
the  only  time  I  know  of,   in  the  long  calendar  of  the 


lyo  Greatest  Sliort  Stories 

year,  when  men  and  women  seem  by  one  consent  to 
open  their  shut-up  hearts  freely,  and  to  think  of  people 
below  them  as  if  they  really  were  fellow-travellers  to  the 
grave,  and  not  another  race  of  creatures  bound  on  other 
journeys.  And  therefore,  uncle,  though  it  has  never  put 
a  scrap  of  gold  or  silver  in  my  pocket,  I  believe  that  it 
has  done  me  good,  and  will  do  me  good ;  and  I  say, 
God  bless  it !  " 

The  clerk  in  the  tank  involuntarily  applauded. 

"  Let  me  hear  another  sound  from  ycu,'^  said  Scrooge, 
"  and  you  '11  keep  your  Christmas  by  losing  your  situa- 
tion !  — You  're  quite  a  powerful  speaker,  sir,"  he  added, 
turning  to  his  nephew.  "  I  wonder  you  don't  go  into 
Parliament." 

"  Don't  be  angry,  uncle.  Come  !  Dine  with  us,  to- 
morrow." 

Scrooge  said  that  he  would  see  him  —  yes,  indeed  he 
did.  He  went  the  whole  length  of  the  expression,  and 
said  that  he  would  see  him  in  that  extremity  first. 

"  But  why?  "  cried  Scrooge's  nephew.     "  Why?  " 

"  Why  did  you  get  married?  " 

"  Because  I  fell  in  love." 

"  Because  you  fell  in  love  !  "  growled  Scrooge,  as  if 
that  were  the  only  one  thing  in  the  world  more  ridiculous 
than  a  merry  Christmas.     "  Good  afternoon  !  " 

"  Nay,  uncle,  but  you  never  came  to  see  me  before 
that  happened.  Why  give  it  as  a  reason  for  not  coming 
now?" 

"  Good  afternoon." 

"  I  want  nothing  from  you  ;  I  ask  nothing  of  you  j 
why  cannot  we   be  friends?" 

"  Good  afternoon." 

"  I  am  sorry,  with  all  my  heart,  to  find  you  so  resolute. 
We  have  never  had  any  quarrel,  to  which  I  have  been 


[ 


A  Christmas  Carol  171 

a  party.  But  I  have  made  the  trial  in  homage  to  Christ- 
mas, and  I  '11  keep  my  Christmas  humor  to  the  last. 
So,  A  Merry  Christmas,  uncle  !  " 

"  Good  afternoon  !  " 

•'  And  A  Happy  New  Year  !  " 

"  Good  afternoon  !  " 

His  nephew  left  the  room  without  an  angry  word,  not- 
withstanding. The  clerk,  in  letting  Scrooge's  nephew 
out,  had  let  two  other  people  in.  They  were  portly  gentle- 
men, pleasant  to  behold,  and  now  stood,  with  their  hats 
off,  in  Scrooge's  office.  They  had  books  and  papers  in 
their  hands,  and  bowed  to  him. 

"  Scrooge  and  Marley's,  I  believe,"  said  one  of  the 
gentlemen,  referring  to  his  list.  "  Have  I  the  pleasure 
of  addressing  Mr.  Scrooge,  or  Mr.  Marley  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Marley  has  been  dead  these  seven  years.  He 
died  seven  years  ago,  this  very  night." 

"At  this  festive  season  of  the  year,  Mr.  Scrooge," 
said  the  gentleman,  taking  up  a  pen,  "  it  is  more  than 
usually  desirable  that  we  should  make  some  slight  pro- 
vision for  the  poor  and  destitute,  who  suffer  greatly  at 
the  present  time.  Many  thousands  are  in  want  of  com- 
mon necessaries  ;  hundreds  of  thousands  are  in  want  of 
common  comforts,  sir." 

"Are  there  no  prisons?" 

"  Plenty  of  prisons.  But  under  the  impression  that 
they  scarcely  furnish  Christian  cheer  of  mind  or  body  to 
the  unoffending  multitude,  a  few  of  us  are  endeavoring  to 
raise  a  fund  to  buy  the  poor  some  meat  and  drink,  and 
means  of  warmth.  We  choose  this  time,  because  it  is  a 
time  of  all  others  when  \\'ant  is  keenly  felt  and  Abun- 
dance rejoices.     What  shall  I  put  you  down    for? " 

"  Nothing  !  " 

"You  wish  to  be  anonymous?" 


172  Greatest  Short  Stones 

"I  wish  to  be  left  alone.  Since  you  ask  me  what  I 
wish,  gentlemen,  that  is  my  answer.  I  don't  make  merry 
myself  at  Christmas,  and  I  can't  afford  to  make  idle 
people  merry.  I  help  to  support  the  prisons  and  the 
workhouses,  —  they  cost  enough,  —  and  those  who  are 
badly  off  must  go  there." 

"  Many  can't  go  there ;  and  many  would  rather 
die." 

"  If  they  would  rather  die,  they  had  better  do  it,  and 
decrease  the  surplus  population." 

At  length  the  hour  of  shutting  up  the  counting-house 
arrived.  With  an  ill-will  Scrooge,  dismounting  from  his 
stool,  tacitly  admitted  the  fact  to  the  expectant  clerk  in 
the  Tank,  who  instantly  snuffed  his  candle  out,  and  put 
on  his  hat. 

"  You  '11  want  all  day  to-morrow,  I  suppose  ?  '* 

"  If  quite  convenient,  sir." 

"  It 's  not  convenient,  and  it 's  not  fair.  If  I  was  to 
stop  half  a  crown  for  it,  you'd  think  yourself  mightily  ill- 
used,  I '11  be  bound?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  And  yet  you  don't  think  me  ill-used,  when  I  pay  a 
day's  wages  for  no  work." 

"  It 's  only  once  a  year,  sir." 

"A  poor  excuse  for  picking  a  man's  pocket  every 
twenty-fifth  of  December !  But  I  suppose  you  must 
have  the  whole  day.  Be  here  all  the  earlier  next 
morning." 

The  clerk  promised  that  he  would ;  and  Scrooge 
walked  out  with  a  growl.  The  office  was  closed  in  a 
twinkling,  and  the  clerk,  with  the  long  ends  of  his  white 
comforter  dangling  below  his  waist  (for  he  boasted  no 
great-coat),  went  down  a  slide,  at  the  end  of  a  lane  of 
boys,  twenty  times,  in  honor  of  its  being  Christmas  eve, 


A  Christmas  Carol  173 

and  then  ran  home  as  hard  as  he  could  pelt,  to  play  at 
blind-man's-buff. 

Scrooge  took  his  melancholy  dinner  in  his  usual  melan- 
choly tavern ;  and  having  read  all  the  newspapers,  and 
beguiled  the  rest  of  the  evening  with  his  banker's  book, 
went  home  to  bed.  He  lived  in  chambers  which  had 
once  belonged  to  his  deceased  partner.  They  were  a 
gloomy  suite  of  rooms,  in  a  lowering  pile  of  building  up 
a  yard.  The  building  was  old  enough  now,  and  dreary 
enough ;  for  nobody  lived  in  it  but  Scrooge,  the  other 
rooms  being  all  let  out  as  offices. 

Now  it  is  a  fact,  that  there  was  nothing  at  all  particu- 
lar about  the  knocker  on  the  door  of  this  house,  except 
that  it  was  very  large ;  also,  that  Scrooge  had  seen  it, 
night  and  morning,  during  his  whole  residence  in  that 
place ;  also,  that  Scrooge  had  as  little  of  what  is  called 
fancy  about  him  as  any  man  in  the  city  of  London. 
And  yet  Scrooge,  having  his  key  in  the  lock  of  the  door, 
saw  in  the  knocker,  without  its  undergoing  any  interme- 
diate process  of  change,  not  a  knocker,  but  Marley's 
face. 

Marley's  face,  with  a  dismal  light  about  it,  like  a  bad 
lobster  in  a  dark  cellar.  It  was  not  angry  or  ferocrolTs, 
but  it  looked  at  Scrooge  as  Marley  used  to  look,  — 
with  ghostly  spectacles  turned  up  upon  its  ghostly  fore- 
head. 

As  Scrooge  looked  fixedly  at  this  phenomenon,  it  was 
3.  knocker  again.  He  said,  "  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  and  closed 
the  door  with  a  bang. 

The  sound  resounded  through  the  house  like  thunder. 
Every  room  above,  and  every  cask  in  the  wine- merchant's 
cellars  below,  appeared  to  have  a  separate  peal  of  echoes 
of  its  own.  Scrooge  was  not  a  man  to  be  frightened  by 
echoes.     He  fastened  the  door,  and  walked  across  the 


174  Greatest  Short  Stories 

hall,  and  up  the  stairs.     Slowly,  too,  trininiing  his  candle 
as  he  went. 

Up  Scrooge  went,  not  caring  a  button  for  its  being 
very  dark.     Darkness   is  cheap,  and  Scrooge   liked  it. 
But  before  he  shut  his  heavy  door,  he  walked  througl>-i3 
his  rooms  to  see  that  all  was  right.     He  had  just  enough  V 
recollection  of  the  face  to  desire  to  do  that. 

Sitting-room,  bedroom,  lumber-room,  all  as  they  should 
be.  Nobody  under  the  table,  nobody  under  the  sofa  ;  a 
small  fire  in  the  grate  ;  spoon  and  basin  ready ;  and  the A. 
litUe  saucepan  of  gruel  (Scrooge  had  a  cold  in  his  head) 
upon  the  hob.  Nobody  under  the  bed  ;  nobody  in  the 
closet ;  nobody  in  his  dressing-gown,  which  was  hanging 
up  in  a  suspicious  attitude  against  the  wall.  Lumber- 
room  as  usual.  Old  fire-guard,  old  shoes,  two  fish-bas- 
kets, washing-stand  on  three  legs,  and  a  poker. 

Quite  satisfied,  he  closed  his  door,  and  locked  himself  , 
in  ;  double-locked  himself  in,  which  was  not  his  custom. 
Thus  secured  against  surprise,  he  took  off  his  cravat, 
put  on  his  dressing-gown  and  slippers  and  his  night- 
cap, and  sat  down  before  the  very  low  fire  to  take  his 
gruel. 

As  he  threw  his  head  back  in  the  chair,  his  glance 
happened  to  rest  upon  a  bell,  a  disused  bell,  that  hung  -+ 
in  the  room,  and  communicated,  for  some  purpose  now 
forgotten,  with  a  chamber  in  the  highest  story  of  the 
building.  It  was  with  great  astonishment,  and  with  a 
strange,  inexplicable  dread,  that,  as  he  looked,  he  saw 
this  bell  begin  to  swing.  Soon  it  rang  out  loudly,  and 
so  did  every  bell  in  the  house. 

This  was  succeeded  by  a  clanking  noise,  deep  down 
below,  as  if  some  person  were  dragging  a  heavy  chain 
over  the  casks  in  the  wine-merchant's  cellar. 

Then  he  heard  the  noise  much  louder,  on  the  floors 


A  Christmas  Carol  175 

below;   then  coming  up  the  stairs  ;   then  coming  straight 
towards  his  door. 

It  came  on  through  the  heavy  door,  and  a  spectre 
passed  into  the  room  before  his  eyes.  And  upon  its 
coming  in,  the  dying  flame  leaped  up,  as  though  it  cried,. 
"  I  know  him  !     Marley's  ghost  !  " 

The  same  face,  the  very  samiC.  Marley  in  his  pigtail, 
usual  waistcoat,  tights,  and  boots.  His  body  was  trans- 
parent ;  so  that  Scrooge,  observing  him,  and  looking 
through  his  waistcoat,  could  see  the  two  buttons  on  his 
coat  behind. 

Scrooge  had  often  heard  it  said  that  Marley  had  no 
bowels,  but  he  had  never  believed  it  until  now. 

No,  nor  did  he  believe  it  even  now.  Though  he 
looked  the  phantom  through  and  through,  and  saw  it 
standing  before  him,  —  though  he  felt  the  chilling  influ- 
ence of  its  death-cold  eyes,  and  noticed  the  very  texture 
of  the  folded  kerchief  bound  about  its  head  and  chin, 
—  he  was  still  incredulous. 

"How  now  !  "  said  Scrooge,  caustic  and  cold  as  ever. 
"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  Much  !  "  —  Marley's  voice,  no  doubt  about  it. 

"Who  are  you?  " 

"Ask  me  who  I  was." 

"  Who  were  you,  then?  " 

"  In  life  I  was  your  partner,  Jacob  Marley." 

"  Can  you  —  can  you  sit  down?  " 

"  I  can."  ' 

"  Do  it,  then." 

Scrooge  asked  the  question,  because  he  did  n't  know 
whether  a  ghost  so  transparent  might  find  himself  in  a 
condition  to  take  a  chair;  and  felt  that,  in  the  event  of 
its  being  impossible,  it  might  involve  the  necessity  of  an 
embarrassing  explanation.     But  the  ghost  sat  down  on 


176  Greatest  Short  Stories 

the  opposite  side  of  the  fircphice,  as  if  he  were  quite  used 
to  it. 

"  You  don't  beheve  in  me." 

"  I  don't." 

"What  evidence  woulil  you  have  of  my  reality  beyond 
that  of  your  senses?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Why  do  you  doubt  your  senses?" 

"  Because  a  Httle  thing  affects  them.  A  sHght  disorder 
of  the  stomach  makes  them  cheats.  You  may  be  an 
undigested  bit  of  beef,  a  blot  of  mustard,  a  crumb  of 
cheese,  a  fragment  of  an  underdone  potato.  There  's 
more  of  gravy  than  of  grave  about  you,  whatever  you 
are  !  " 

Scrooge  was  not  much  in  the  habit  of  cracking  jokes, 
nor  did  he  feel  in  his  heart  by  any  means  waggish  then. 
The  truth  is,  that  he  tried  to  be  smart,  as  a  means  of 
distracting  his  own  attention,  and  keeping  clown  his 
horror. 

But  how  much  greater  was  his  horror  when,  the  phan- 
tom taking  off  the  bandage  round  its  head,  as  if  it  were 
too  warm  to  wear  in-doors,  its  lower  jaw  dropped  down 
upon  its  breast ! 

"  Mercy  !  Dreadful  apparition,  why  do  you  trouble 
me?  Why  do  spirits  walk  the  earth,  and  why  do  they 
come  to  me?  " 

"  It  is  required  of  every  man,  that  the  spirit  within 
him  should  walk  abroad  among  his  fellow-men,  and  travel 
far  and  wide  ;  and  if  that  spirit  goes  not  forth  in  life,  it 
is  condemned  to  do  so  after  death.  I  cannot  tell  you  ail 
I  would.  A  very  little  more  is  permitted  to  me.  I  can- 
not rest,  I  cannot  stay,  I  cannot  hnger  anywhere.  My 
spirit  never  walked  beyond  our  counting-house,  —  mark 
me  ! — in  life  my  spirit  never  roved  beyond  the  narrow 


A  Christmas  Carol  177 

limits  of  our  money-changing  hole  ;  and  weary  journeys 
lie  before  me  !  " 

"  Seven  years  dead.  And  travelling  all  the  time  ? 
You  travel  fast?  " 

"  On  the  wings  of  the  wind." 

"  You  might  have  got  over  a  great  quantity  of  ground 
in  seven  years." 

'•  O  blind  man,  blind  man  !  not  to  know  that  ages  of 
incessant  labor  by  immortal  creatures  for  this  earth  must 
pass  into  eternity  before  the  good  of  which  it  is  suscep- 
tible is  all  developed.  Not  to  know  that  any  Christian 
spirit  working  kindly  in  its  little  sphere,  whatever  it  may 
be,  will  find  its  mortal  life  too  short  for  its  vast  means  of 
usefulness.  Not  to  know  that  no  space  of  regret  can 
make  amends  for  one  life's  opportunities  misused  !  Yet 
I  was  like  this  man  ;   I  once  was  like  this  man  !  " 

"  But  you  were  always  a  good  man  of  business,  Jacob," 
faltered  Scrooge,  who  now  began  to  apply  this  to  him- 
self. 

"  Business  !  "  cried  the  ghost,  wringing  its  hands  again. 
"  Mankind  was  my  business.  The  common  welfare  was 
my  business ;  charity,  mercy,  forbearance,  benevolence, 
were  all  my  business.  The  dealings  of  my  trade  were 
but  a  drop  of  water  in  the  comprehensive  ocean  of  my 
business." 

Scrooge  was  very  much  dismayed  to  hear  the  spectre 
going  on  at  this  rate,  and  began  to  quake  exceedingly. 

"  Hear  me  !     My  time  is  nearly  gone." 

"  I  will.  But  don't  be  hard  upon  me  !  Don't  be  flow- 
ery, Jacob  !     Pray  !  " 

"  I  am  here  to-night  to  warn  you  that  you  have  yet  a 
chance  and  hope  of  escaping  my  fate.  A  chance  and 
hope  of  my  procuring,  Ebenezer." 

«  You  were  always  a  good  friend  to  me.     Thank'ee  ! " 
12 


lyS  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  Vou  will  be  haunted  by  Three  Spirits." 

"Is  that  the  chance  and  hope  you  mentioned,  Jacob? 
I  —  I  think  I  'd  rather  not." 

"  Without  their  visits,  you  cannot  hope  to  shun  the 
path  I  tread.  Expect  the  first  to-morrow  night,  when 
the  bell  tolls  One.  Expect  the  second  on  the  next 
night  at  the  same  hour.  The  third,  upon  the  next  night, 
when  the  last  stroke  of  Twelve  has  ceased  to  vibrate. 
Look  to  see  me  no  more  ;  and  look  that,  for  your  own 
sake,  you  remember  what  has  passed  between  us  !  " 

It  walked  backward  from  him ;  and  at  every  step  it 
took,  the  window  raised  itself  a  little,  so  that,  when  the 
apparition  reached  it,  it  was  wide  open. 

Scrooge  closed  the  window,  and  examined  the  door 
by  which  the  Ghost  had  entered.  It  was  double-locked, 
as  he  had  locked  it  with  his  own  hands,  and  the  bolts 
were  undisturbed.  Scrooge  tried  to  say,  "  Humbug  !  " 
but  stopped  at  the  first  syllable.  And  being,  from  the 
emotion  he  had  undergone,  or  the  fatigues  of  the 
day,  or  his  glimpse  of  the  invisible  world,  or  the  dull 
conversation  of  the  Ghost,  or  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
much  in  need  of  repose,  he  went  straight  to  bed,  without 
undressing,  and  fell  asleep  on  the  instant. 

-V 


STAVE    TWO/ 

THE    FIRST    OF    THE    THREE    SPIRITS 

When  Scrooge  awoke,  it  was  so  dark,  that,  looking 
out  of  bed,  he  could  scarcely  distinguish  the  transparent 
window  from  the  opaque  walls  of  his  chamber,  until 
suddenly  the  church  clock  tolled  a  deep,  dull,  hollow, 
melancholy  ONE. 

Light  flashed  up  in  the  room  upon  the  instant,  and 


A  Christmas  Carol  179 

the  curtains  of  his  bed  were  drawn  aside  by  a  strange 
figure,  —  Hke  a  child  :  yet  not  so  like  a  child  as  like  an 
old  man,  viewed  through  some  supernatural  medium, 
which  gave  him  the  appearance  of  having  receded  from 
the  view,  and  being  diminished  to  a  child's  proportions. 
Its  hair,  which  hung  about  its  neck  and  down  its  back, 
was  white  as  if  with  age  ;  and  yet  the  face  had  not  a 
wrinkle  in  it,  and  the  tenderest  bloom  was  on  the  skin. 
It  held  a  branch  of  fresh  green  holly  in  its  hand ;  and, 
in  singular  contradiction  of  that  wintry  emblem,  had  its 
dress  trimmed  with  summer  flowers.  But  the  strangest 
thing  about  it  was,  that  from  the  crown  of  its  head  there 
sprung  a  bright  clear  jet  of  light,  by  which  all  this  was 
visible ;  and  which  was  doubtless  the  occasion  of  its 
using,  in  its  duller  moments,  a  great  extinguisher  for  a 
cap,  which  it  now  held  under  its  arm. 

"  Are  you  the  Spirit,  sir,  whose  coming  was  foretold 
to  me?" 

«  I  am  !  " 

"  Who  and  what  are  you?  " 

"  I  am  the  Ghost  of  Christmas  Past." 

"  Long  past?  " 

"  No.  Your  past.  The  things  that  you  will  see  with 
me  are  shadows  of  the  things  that  have  been ;  they  will 
have  no  consciousness  of  us." 

Scrooge  then  made  bold  to  inquire  what  business 
brought  him  there. 

"  Your  welfare.     Rise,  and  walk  with  me  !  " 

It  would  have  been  in  vain  for  Scrooge  to  plead  that 
the  weather  and  the  hour  were  not  adapted  to  pedestrian 
purposes ;  that  the  bed  was  warm,  and  the  thermometer 
a  long  way  below  freezing  ;  that  he  was  clad  but  lightly 
in  his  slippers,  dressing-gown,  and  nightcap ;  and  that 
he    had    a   cold    upon    him    at   that  time.     The  grasp. 


i8o  Greatest  Short  Stories 

though  gentle  as  a  woman's  hand,  was  not  to  be  resisted. 
He  rose  ;  but,  finding  that  the  Spirit  made  towards  the 
window,  clasped  its  robe  in  supplication. 

"  I  am  a  mortal,  and  liable  to  fall." 

"  Bear  but  a  touch  of  my  hand  there, ^'  said  the  Spirit, 
laying  it  upon  his  heart,  "  and  you  shall  be  upheld  in 
more  than  this  !  " 

As  the  words  were  spoken,  they  passed  through  the 
wall,  and  stood  in  the  busy  thoroughfares  of  a  city.  It 
was  made  plain  enough  by  the  dressing  of  the  shops 
that  here,  too,  it  was  Christmas  time. 

The  Ghost  stopped  at  a  certain  warehouse  door,  and 
asked  Scrooge  if  he  knew  it. 

"  Know  it  !     Was  I  apprenticed  here  !  " 

They  went  in.  At  sight  of  an  old  gentleman  in  a 
Welsh  wig,  sitting  behind  such  a  high  desk  that,  if  he 
had  been  two  inches  taller,  he  must  have  knocked  his 
head  against  the  ceiling,  Scrooge  cried  in  great  excite- 
ment, "  Why,  it 's  old  Fezziwig  !  Bless  his  heart,  it 's 
Fezziwig,  alive  again  !  " 

Old  Fezziwig  laid  down  his  pen,  and  looked  up  at  the 
clock,  which  pointed  to  the  _hpur  of  seven.  He  rubbed 
his  hands ;  adjusted  his  capacious  waistcoat ;  laughed  all 
over  himself,  from  his  shoes  to  his  organ  of  benevolence  ; 
and  called  out  in  a  comfortable,  oily,  rich,  fat,  jovial 
voice,  "Yo  ho,  there!     Ebenezer  !     Dick!" 

A  living  and  moving  picture  of  Scrooge's  former  self, 
a  young  man,  came  briskly  in,  accompany  by  his  fellow- 
'prentice. 

"  Dick  Wilkins,  to  be  sure  !  "  said  Scrooge  to  the 
Ghost.  "  My  old  fellow-'prentice,  bless  me,  yes.  There 
he  is.  He  was  very  much  attached  to  me,  was  Dick. 
Poor  Dick  !      Dear,  dear  !  " 

"  Yo  ho,  my  boys  !  "  said  Fezziwig.     "  No  more  work 


A  Christmas  Carol  i8i 

to-night.  Christmas  eve,  Dick,  Christmas,  Ebenezer  ! 
Let 's  have  the  shutters  up,  before  a  man  can  say  Jack 
Robinson  !  Clear  away,  my  lads,  and  let 's  have  lots  of 
room  here  !  " 

Clear  away  !  There  was  nothing  they  would  n't  have 
cleared  away,  or  could  n't  have  cleared  away,  with  old 
Fezziwig  looking  on.  It  was  done  in  a  minute.  Every 
movable  was  packed  off,  as  if  it  were  dismissed  from 
public  life  forevermore  ;  the  floor  was  swept  and  watered, 
the  lamps  were  trimmed,  fuel  was  heaped  upon  the  fire ; 
and  the  warehouse  was  as  snug  and  warm  and  dry  and 
bright  a  ball-room  as  you  would  desire  to  see  upon  a 
winter's  night. 

In  came  a  fiddler  with  a  music-book,  and  went  up  to 
the  lofty  desk,  and  made  an  orchestra  of  it,  and  tuned 
;^ike  fifty  stomach-aches.  In  came  Mrs.  Fezziwig,  one 
'^vast  substantial  smile.  In  came  the  three  Miss  Fezzi- 
wigs,  beaming  and  lovable.  In  came  the  six  young 
followers  whose  hearts  they  broke.  In  came  all  the 
young  men  and  women  employed  in  the  business.  In 
came  the  housemaid,  with  her  cousin  the  baker.  In 
came  the  cook,  with  her  brother's  particular  friend  the 
milkman.  In  they  all  came  one  after  another;  some 
shyly,  some  boldly,  some  gracefully,  some  awkwardly, 
some  pushing,  some  pulling ;  in  they  all  came,  anyhow 
and  everyhow.  Away  they  all  went,  twenty  couple  at 
once ;  hands  half  round  and  back  again  the  other  way  ; 
down  the  middle  and  up  again  ;  round  and  round  in 
various  stages  of  affectionate  grouping ;  old  top  couple 
always  turning  up  in  the  wrong  place  ;  new  top  couple 
starting  off  again,  as  soon  as  they  got  there  ;  all  top 
couples  at  last,  and  not  a  bottom  one  to  help  them. 
When  this  result  was  brought  about,  old  Fezziwig, 
clapping  his  hands  to  stop  the  dance,  cried  out,  "  Well 


1 82  Greatest  Short  Stories 

done  !  "  and  the  fiddler  plunged  his  hot  face  into  a  pot 
of  porter  especially  provided  for  that  purpose. 

There  were  more  dances,  and  there  were  forfeits,  and 
more  dances,  and  there  was  cake,  and  there  was  negus, 
and  there  was  a  great  piece  of  Cold  Roast,  and  there 
was  a  great  piece  of  Cold  Boiled,  and  there  were  mince- 
pies,  and  plenty  of  beer.  But  the  great  effect  of  the 
evening  came  after  the  Roast  and  Boiled,  when  the 
fiddler  struck  up  "  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley."  Then  old 
Fezziwig  stood  out  to  dance  with  Mrs.  Fezziwig.  Top 
couple,  too ;  with  a  good  stiff  piece  of  work  cut  out  for 
them  ;  three  or  four  and  twenty  pair  of  partners  ;  people 
who  were  not  to  be  trifled  with ;  people  who  jvould 
dance,  and  had  no  notion  of  walking. 

But  if  they  had  been  twice  as  many,  —  four  times,  — 
old  Fezziwig  would  have  been  a  match  for  them,  and  so 
would  Mrs.  Fezziwig.  As  to  he7-,  she  was  worthy  to  be 
his  partner  in  every  sense  of  the  term.  A  positive  light 
-appeared  to  issue  from  Fezziwig's  calves.  They  shone 
in  every  part  of  the  dance.  You  couldn't  have  predicted, 
at  any  given  time,  what  would  become  of 'em  next.  And 
when  old  Fezziwig  and  Mrs.  Fezziwig  had  gone  all 
through  the  dance,  —  advance  and  retire,  turn  your 
partner,  bow  and  courtesy,  corkscrew,  thread  the  needle, 
and  back  again  to  your  place,  —  Fezziwig  "cut,"  — 
cut  so  deftly,  that  he  appeared  to  wink  with  his 
legs. 

When  the  clock  struck  eleven  this  domestic  ball  broke 
up.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  FezziwigtSok  their  stations,  one  on 
either  side  the  door,  and,  shaking  hands  with  every  per- 
son individually  as  he  or  she  went  out,  wished  him  or 
her  a  Merry  Christmas.  When  everybody  had  retired 
but  the  two  'prentices,  they  did  the  same  to  them  ;  and 
thus  the  cheerful  voices  died  away,  and   the  lads  were 


A  Christmas  Carol  183 

left  to  their  beds,  which  were  under  a  counter  in  the 
back  shop. 

"  A  small  matter,"  said  the  Ghost,  "  to  make  these  silly 
folks  so  full  of  gratitude.  He  has  spent  but  a  (ew  pounds 
of  your  mortal  money,  —  three  or  four  perhaps.  Is  that 
so  much  that  he  deserves  this  praise?  " 

"  It  is  n't  that,"  said  Scrooge,  heated  by  the  remark, 
and  speaking  unconsciously  like  his  former,  not  his  latter 
self,  —  "  it  is  n't  that.  Spirit.  He  has  the  power  to  ren- 
der us  happy  or  unhappy;  to  make  our  service  light  or 
burdensome,  a  pleasure  or  a  toil.  Say  that  his  power 
lies  in  words  and  looks ;  in  things  so  slight  and  insig- 
nificant that  it  is  impossible  to  add  and  count  'em  up  : 
what  then  ?  The  happiness  he  gives  is  quite  as  great  as 
if  it  cost  a  fortune." 

He  felt  the  Spirit's  glance,  and  stopped. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Nothing  particular." 

"  Something,  I  think?  " 

"  No,  no.  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  say  a  word  or 
two  to  my  clerk  just  now.     That 's  all." 

"  My  time  grows  short,"  observed  the  Spirit.  "  Quick  !  " 

This  was  not  addressed  to  Scrooge,  or  to  any  one 
whom  he  could  see,  but  it  produced  an  immediate  effect. 
For  again  he  saw  himself.  He  was  older  now ;  a  man 
in  the  prime  of  life. 

He  was  not  alone,  but  sat  by  the  side  of  a  fair  young 
girl  in  a  black  dress,  in  whose  eyes  there  were  tears. 

"  It  matters  little,"  she  said  softly  to  Scrooge's  former 
self.  "  To  you,  very  little.  Another  idol  has  displaced 
me ;  and  if  it  can  comfort  you  in  time  to  come,  as  I 
would  have  tried  to  do,  I  have  no  just  cause  to  grieve." 

"What  Idol  has  displaced  you?" 

"  A  golden  one.     You  fear  the  world  too  much.     I 


>^ 


1S4  Greatest  Short  Stories 

have  seen  your  nobler  aspirations  fall  off  one  by  one, 
until  the  master-passion,  Oain,  engrosses  you.  Have 
I  not?" 

"  What  then  ?  Even  if  I  have  grown  so  much  wiser, 
what  then?  I  am  not  changed  towards  you.  Have  I 
ever  sought  release  from  our  engagement  ?  " 

"  In  words,  no.     Never." 

"In  what,  then?" 

"  In  a  changed  nature  ;  in  an  altered  spirit ;  in  an- 
other atmosphere  of  life  ;  another  Hope  as  its  great  end. 
If  you  were  free  to-day,  to-morrow,  yesterday,  can  even 
I  believe  that  you  would  choose  a  dowerless  girl ;  or, 
choosing  her,  do  I  not  know  that  your  repentance  and 
regret  would  surely  follow?  I  do;  and  I  release  you. 
With  a  full  heart,  for  the  love  of  him  you  once  were." 

"Spirit!  remove  me  from  this  place." 

"  I  told  you  these  were  shadows  of  the  things  that 
have  been,"  said  the  Ghost.  "  That  they  are  what  they 
are,  do  not  blame  me  !  " 

"  Remove  me  !  "  Scrooge  exclaimed.  "  I  cannot  bear 
it !   Leave  me  !  Take  me  back.     Haunt  me  no  longer  !  " 

As  he  struggled  with  the  Spirit  he  was  conscious  of 
being  exhausted,  and  overcome  by  an  irresistible  drowsi- 
ness ;  and,  further,  of  being  in  his  own  bedroom.  He 
had  barely  time  to  reel  to  bed  before  he  sank  into  a 
heavy  sleep.  x 

STAVE    THREE 

THE    SECOND    OF   THE    THREE    SPIRFTS 

Scrooge  awoke  in  his  own  bedroom.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  that.  But  it  and  his  own  adjoining  sitting- 
room,    into  which   he  shuffled  in    his  slippers,  attracted 


A  Christmas  Carol  185 

by  a  great  light  there,  had  undergone  a  surprising  trans- 
formation. The  walls  and  ceiling  were  so  hung  with 
living  green,  that  it  looked  a  perfect  grove.  The  leaves 
of  holly,  mistletoe,  and  ivy  reflected  back  the  light,  as 
if  so  many  little  mirrors  had  been  scattered  there  ;  and 
such  a  mighty  blaze  went  roaring  up  the  chimney,  as  that 
petrifaction  of  a  hearth  had  never  known  in  Scrooge's 
time,  or  Marley's,  or  for  many  and  many  a  winter  season 
gone.  Heaped  upon  the  floor,  to  form  a  kind  of  throne, 
were  turkeys,  geese,  game,  brawn,  great  joints  of  meat, 
sucking  pigs,  long  wreaths  of  sausages,  mince-pies,  plum- 
puddings,  barrels  of  oysters,  red-hot  chestnuts,  cherry- 
cheeked  apples,  juicy  oranges,  luscious  pears,  immense 
cwelfth-cakes,  and  great  bowls  of  punch.  In  easy  state 
upon  this  couch  there  sat  a  Giant  glorious  to  see ;  who 
bore  a  glowing  torch,  in  shape  not  unlike  Plenty's  horn, 
and  who  raised  it  high  to  shed  its  light  on  Scrooge,  as  he 
came  peeping  round  the  door. 

"  Come  in,  —  come  in  !  and  know  me  better,  man  ! 
I  am  the  Ghost  of  Christmas  Present.  Look  upon  me  ! 
You  have  never  seen  the  like   of  me  before  !  " 

"  Never." 

"  Have  never  walked  forth  with  the  younger  members 
or  my  family  ;  meaning  (for  I  am  very  young)  my  elder 
brothers  born  in  these  later  years?  "  pursued  the  Phan- 
tom. 

"  I  don't  think  I  have,  I  am  afraid  I  have  not.  Have 
you  had  many  brothers.  Spirit?" 

"  More  than  eighteen  hundred." 

"  A  tremendous  family  to  provide  for  !  Spirit,  con- 
duct me  where  you  will.  I  went  forth  last  night  on 
compulsion,  and  I  learnt  a  lesson  which  is  working 
now.  To-night,  if  you  have  aught  to  teach  me,  let  me 
profit  by  it." 


1 86  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  Touch  my  robe  !  " 

Scrooge  did  as  he  was  told,  and  held  it  fast. 

The  room  and  its  contents  all  vanished  instantly,  and 
they  stood  in  the  city  streets  upon  a  snowy  Christmas 
morning. 

Scrooge  and  the  Ghost  passed  on,  invisible,  straight 
to  Scrooge's  clerk's  ;  and  on  the  threshold  of  the  door 
the  Spirit  smiled,  and  stopped  to  bless  Bob  Cratchit's 
dwelling  with  the  sprinklings  of  his  torch.  Think  of 
that  !  Bob  had  but  fifteen  "  Bob  "  ^  a  week  himself;  he 
pocketed  on  Saturdays  but  fifteen  copies  of  his  Christian 
name ;  and  yet  the  Ghost  of  Christmas  Present  blessed 
his  four-roomed  house  ! 

Then  up  rose  Mrs.  Cratchit,  Cratchit's  wife,  dressed 
out  but  poorly  in  a  twice-turned  gown,  but  brave  in  rib- 
bons, which  are  cheap  and  make  a  goodly  show  for 
sixpence  ;  and  she  laid  the  cloth,  assisted  by  Belinda 
Cratchit,  second  of  her  daughters,  also  brave  in  ribbons  ; 
while  Master  Peter  Cratchit  plunged  a  fork  into  the 
saucepan  of  potatoes,  and,  getting  the  corners  of  his 
monstrous  shirt-collar  (Bob's  private  property,  conferred 
upon  his  son  and  heir  in  honor  of  the  day)  into  his 
mouth,  rejoiced  to  find  himself  so  gallantly  attired,  and 
yearned  to  show  his  linen  in  the  fashionable  Parks.  And 
now  two  smaller  Cratchits,  boy  and  girl,  came  tearing  in, 
screaming  that  outside  the  baker's  they  had  smelt  the 
goose,  and  known  it  for  their  own  ;  and,  basking  in  luxu- 
rious thoughts  of  sage  and  onion,  these  young  Cratchits 
danced  about  the  table,  and  exalted  Master  Peter 
Cratchit  to  the  skies,  while  he  (not  proud,  although  his 
collars  nearly  choked  him)  blew  the  fire,  until  the  slow 
potatoes,  bubbling  up,  knocked  loudly  at  the  saucepan- 
lid  to  be  let  out  and  peeled. 

1  "  Bob  "  is  English  slang  for  "  shilling." 


A  Christmas  Carol  187 

"  What  has  ever  got  your  precious  father,  then?"  said 
Mrs.  Cratchit.  "  And  your  brother  Tiny  Tim  !  And 
Martha  warn't  as  late  last  Christmas  day  by  half  an 
hour !  " 

"  Here  's  Martha,  mother  !  "  said  a  girl,  appearing  as 
she  spoke. 

"  Here 's  Martha,  mother  !  "  cried  the  two  young 
Cratchits.    "  Hurrah  !    There  's  such  a  goose,  Martha  !  " 

"  Why,  bless  your  heart  alive,  my  dear,  how  late  you 
are?"  said  Mrs.  Cratchit,  kissing  her  a  dozen  times,  and 
taking  off  her  shawl  and  bonnet  for  her. 

'•'  We  'd  a  deal  of  work  to  finish  up  last  night,"  replied 
the  girl,  "  and  had  to  clear  away  this  morning,  mother  !  " 

"  Well  !  Never  mind  so  long  as  you  are  come,"  said 
Mrs.  Cratchit.  "  Sit  ye  down  before  the  fire,  my  dear, 
and  have  a  warm,  Lord  bless  ye  !  " 

"  No,  no  !  There  's  flither  coming,"  cried  the  two 
young  Cratchits,  who  were  everywhere  at  once.  "  Hide, 
Martha,  hide  !  " 

So  Martha  hid  herself,  and  in  came  little  Bob,  the 
father,  with  at  least  three  feet  of  comforter,  exclusive 
of  the  fringe,  hanging  down  before  him ;  and  his  thread- 
bare clothes  darned  up  and  brushed,  to  look  seasonable  : 
and  Tiny  Tim  upon  his  shoulder.  Alas  for  Tiny  Tim, 
he  bore  a  little  crutch,  and  had  his  limbs  supported  by 
an  iron  frame  ! 

"Why,  where 's  our  Martha?"  cried  Bob  Cratchit, 
looking  round. 

"  Not  coming,"  said    Mrs.  Cratchit. 

"  Not  coming  !  "  said  Bob,  with  a  sudden  declension 
in  his  high  spirits ;  for  he  had  been  Tim's  blood- 
horse  all  the  way  from  church,  and  had  come  home 
rampant,  —  "  not  coming  upon  Christmas  day  !  " 

Martha  didn't  like  to  see  him  disappointed,  if  it, were 


1 88  Greatest  Short  Stories 

only  in  joke  ;  so  she  came  out  prematurely  from  behind   \ 
the  closet   door,  and  ran   into   his  arms,   while   the  two 
young  Cratchits  hustled  Tiny  Tim,  and  bore  him  off  into 
the  wash-house  that  he  might  hear  the  pudding  singing 
in  the  copper. 

"  And  how  did  litde  Tim  behave  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Cratchit,  when  she  had  rallied  Bob  on  his  credulity, 
and  Bob  had  hugged  his  daughter  to  his  heart's  content. 

"As  good  as  gold,"  said  Bob,  "and  better.  Somehow 
he  gets  thoughtful,  sitting  by  himself  so  much,  and  thinks 
the  strangest  things  you  ever  heard.  He  told  me,  coming 
home,  that  he  hoped  the  people  saw  him  in  the  church, 
because  he  was  a  cripple,  and  it  might  be  pleasant  to 
them  to  remember,  upon  Christmas  day,  who  made 
lame  beggars  walk  and  blind   pnen  see." 

Bob's  voice  was  tremulous  when  he  told  them  this, 
and  trembled  more  when  he  said  that  Tiny  Tim  was 
growing  strong  and  hearty. 

His  active  little  crutch  was  heard  upon  the  floor,  and 
back  came  Tiny  Tim  before  another  word  was  spoken, 
escorted  by  his  brother  and  sister  to  his  stool  beside  the 
fire ;  and  while  Bob,  turning  up  his  cuffs,  —  as  if,  poor 
fellow,  they  were  capable  of  being  made  more  shabby, 
—  compounded  some  hot  mixture  in  a  jug  with  gin 
and  lemons,  and  stirred  it  round  and  round  and  put 
it  on  the  hob  to  simmer.  Master  Peter  and  the  two 
ubiquitous  young  Cratchits  went  to  fetch  the  goose,  with 
which  they  soon  returned  in  high  procession.-' 

Mrs.  Cratchit  made  the  gravy  (ready  beforehand  in  a 
little  saucepan)  hissing  hot;  Master  Peter  mashed  t!ie 
potatoes  with  incredible  vigor  ;  IMiss  Belinda  sweetened 
up  the  apple-sauce  ;  Martha  dusted  the  hot  plates ;  Bob 
took  Tiny  Tim  beside  him  in  a  tiny  corner  at  the  table ; 
1  The  goose  had  been  cooked  in  the  baker's  oven,  for  economy. 


A  Christmas  Carol  189 

the  two  young  Cratchits  set  chairs  for  everybody,  not 
forgetting  themselves,  and  mounting  guard  upon  their 
posts,  crammed  spoons  into  their  mouths,  lest  they  should 
shriek  for  goose  before  their  turn  came  to  be  helped. 
At  last  the  dishes  were  set  on,  and  grace  was  said. 
It  was  succeeded  by  a  breathless  pause,  as  Mrs.  Cratchit, 
looking  slowly  all  along  the  carving-knife,  prepared  to 
plunge  it  in  the  breast;  but -when  she  did,  and  when  the 
long-expected  gush  of  stuffing  issued  forth,  one  murmur 
of  delight  arose  all  round  the  board,  and  even  Tiny  Tim, 
excited  by  the  two  young  Cratchits,  beat  on  the  table 
with  the  handle  of  his  knife,  and  feebly  cried,  Hurrah  ! 

There  never  was  such  a  goose.  Bob  said  he  did  n't 
believe  there  ever  was  such  a  goose  cooked.  Its  ten- 
derness and  flavor,  size  and  cheapness,  were  the  themes 
of  universal  admiration.  Eked  out  by  apple-sauce  and 
mashed  potatoes,  it  was  a  sufficient  diniier  for  the  whole 
family ;  indeed,  as  Mrs.  Cratchit  said  with  great  delight 
(surveying  one  small  atom  of  a  bone  upon  the  dish),  they 
had  n't  ate  it  all  at  last !  Yet  every  one  had  had  enough, 
and  the  youngest  Cratchits  in  particular  were  steeped  in 
sage  and  onion  to  the  eyebrows  !  But  now,  the  plates 
being  changed  by  Miss  Belinda,  Mrs.  Cratchit  left  the 
room  alone,  —  too  nervous  to  bear  witnesses,  —  to  take 
the  pudding  up,  and  bring  it  in. 

Suppose  it  should  not  be  done  enough  !  Suppose  it 
should  break  in  turning  out !  Suppose  somebody  should 
have  got  over  the  wall  of  the  back  yard,  and  stolen  it, 
while  they  were  merry  with  the  goose,  —  a  supposition  at 
which  the  two  young  Cratchits  became  livid  !  All  sorts 
of  horrors  were  supposed. 

Hallo  !  A  great  deal  of  steam  !  The  pudding  was 
out  of  the  copper.  A  smell  like  a  washing-day  !  That 
was  the  cloth.     A  smell  like  an  eating-house  and  a  pas- 


iQO  Greatest  Short  Stories 

try-cook's  next  door  to  each  other,  with  a  laundress's 
next  door  to  that !  That  was  the  pudding  !  In  half  a 
minute  Mrs.  Cratchit  entered,  —  flushed  but  smiling 
proudly,  —  with  the  pudding,  like  a  speckled  cannon- 
ball,  so  hard  and  firm,  blazing  in  half  of  half  a  quartern 
of  ignited  brandy,  and  bedight  with  Christmas  holly 
stuck  into  the  top, 

O,  a  wonderful  pudding !  Bob  Cratchit  said,  and 
calmly,  too,  that  he  regarded  it  as  the  greatest  success 
achieved  by  Mrs.  Cratchit  since  their  marriage.  Mrs. 
Cratchit  said  that  now  the  weight  was  off  her  mind,  she 
would  confess  she  had  had  her  doubts  about  the  quantity 
of  flour.  Everybody  had  something  to  say  about  it,  but 
nobody  said  or  thought  it  was  at  all  a  small  pudding  for 
a  large  family.  Any  Cratchit  would  have  blushed  to  hint 
at  such  a  thing. 

At  last  the  dinner  was  all  done,  the  cloth  was  cleared, 
the  hearth  swept,  and  the  fire  made  up.  The  compound 
in  the  jug  being  tasted  and  considered  perfect,  apples 
and  oranges  were  put  upon  the  table,  and  a  shovelful  of 
chestnuts  on  the  fire. 

Then  all  the  Cratchit  family  drew  round  the  hearth,  in 
what  Bob  Cratchit  called  a  circle,  and  at  Bob  Cratchit's 
elbow  stood  the  family  display  of  glass,  —  two  tumblers, 
and  a  custard-cup  without  a  handle. 

These  held  the  hot  stuff  from  the  jug,  however,  as  well 
as  golden  goblets  would  have  done ;  and  Bob  served  it 
out  with  beaming  looks,  while  the  chestnuts  on  the  fire 
sputtered  and  crackled  noisily.     Then  Bob  proposed  :  — 

"  A  Merry  Christmas  to  us  all,  my  dears.  God  bless 
us  !  " 

Which  all  the  family  re-echoed. 

"  God  bless  us  every  one  !  "  said  Tiny  Tim,  the  last 
of  all. 


A  Christmas  Carol  191 

He  sat  very  close  to  his  father's  side,  upon  his  little 
stool.  Bob  held  his  withered  little  hand  in  his,  as  if  he 
loved  the  child,  and  wished  to  keep  hi;n  by  his  side,  and 
dreaded  that  he  might  be  taken  from  him. 

Scrooge  raised  his  head  speedily,  on  hearing  his  own 
name. 

"  Mr.  Scrooge  ! "  said  Bob ;  "  I  'U  give  you  Mr. 
Scrooge,  the  Founder  of  the  Feast  !  " 

"  The  Founder  of  the  Feast,  indeed  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Cratchit,  reddening.  "  I  wish  I  had  him  here.  I  'd 
give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind  to  feast  upon,  and  I  hope 
he  'd  have  a  good  appetite  for  it." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Bob,  "  the  children  !  Christmas  day." 

"  It  should  be  Christmas  day,  I  am  sure,"  said  she, 
"  on  which  one  drinks  the  health  of  such  an  odious, 
stingy,  hard,  unfeeling  man  as  Mr.  Scrooge.  You  know 
he  is,  Robert !  Nobody  knows  it  better  than  you  do, 
poor  fellow  !  " 

"  My  dear,"  was  Bob's  mild  answer,  "  Christmas  day." 

"  I  '11  drink  his  health  for  your  sake  and  the  day's," 
said  Mrs.  Cratchit,  "  not  for  his.  Long  life  to  him.  A 
merry  Christmas  and  a  happy  New  Year  !  He  '11  be 
very  merry  and  very  happy,  I  have  no  doubt  !  " 

The  children  drank  the  toast  after  her.  It  was  the 
first  of  their  proceedings  which  had  no  heartiness  in  it. 
Tiny  Tim  drank  it  last  of  all,  but  he  did  n't  care  two- 
pence for  it.  Scrooge  was  the  Ogre  of  the  family.  The 
mention  of  his  name  cast  a  dark  shadow  on  the  party, 
which  was  not  dispelled  for  full  five  minutes. 

After  it  had  passed  away,  they  were  ten  times  merrier 
than  before,  from  the  mere  relief  of  Scrooge  the  Baleful 
being  done  with.  Bob  Cratchit  told  them  how  he  had 
a  situation  in  his  eye  for  Master  Peter,  which  would 
bring   in,    if  obtained,   full    five  and    sixpence   weekly, 


192  Greatest  Short  Stones 

The  two  young  Cratchits  laughed  tremendously  at  the 
idea  of  Peter's  being  a  man  of  business  ;  and  Peter  liim- 
sclf  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  fire  from  between  his 
collars,  as  if  he  were  deliberating  what  particular  invest- 
ments he  should  favor  when  he  came  into  the  receipt  of 
that  bewildering  income.  Martha,  who  was  a  poor  ap- 
prentice at  a  milliner's,  then  told  them  what  kind  of 
work  she  hatl  to  do,  and  how  many  hours  she  worked  at 
a  stretch,  and  how  she  meant  to  lie  abed  to-morrow  morn- 
ing for  a  good  long  rest ;  to-morrow  being  a  holiday  she 
passed  at  home.  Also  how  she  had  seen  a  countess  and  a 
lord  some  days  before,  and  how  the  lord  "  was  much  about 
as  tall  as  Peter  "  ;  at  \Vhich  Peter  pulled  up  his  collars  so 
high  that  you  could  n't  have  seen  his  head  if  you  had 
been  there.  All  this  time  the  chestnuts  and  the  jug  went 
round  and  round  ;  and  by  and  by  they  had  a  song,  about 
a  lost  child  travelling  in  the  snow,  from  Tiny  Tim,  who 
had  a  plaintive  little  voice,  and  sang  it  very  well  indeed. 

There  was  nothing  of  high  mark  in  this.  They  were 
not  a  handsome  family  ;  they  were  not  well  dressed  ;  their 
shoes  were  far  from  being  water-proof;  their  clothes  were 
scanty ;  and  Peter  might  have  known,  and  very  likely 
did,  the  inside  of  a  pawnbroker's.  But  they  were  happy, 
grateful,  pleased  with  one  another,  and  contented  with  the 
time ;  and  when  they  faded,  and  looked  happier  yet  in 
the  bright  sprinklings  of  the  Spirit's  torch  at  parting, 
Scrooge  had  his  eye  upon  them,  and  especially  on  Tiny 
Tim,  until  the  last. 

It  was  a  great  surprise  to  Scrooge,  as  this  scene  van- 
ished, to  hear  a  hearty  laugh.  It  was  a  much  greater 
surprise  to  Scrooge  to  recognize  it  as  his  own  nephew's, 
and  to  find  himself  in  a  bright,  dry,  gleaming  room,  with 
the  Spirit  standing  smiling  by  his  side,  and  looking  at 
that  same  nephew. 


A  Christmas  Carol  193 

It  is  a  fair,  even-handed,  noble  adjustment  of  things, 
that  while  there  is  infection  in  disease  and  sorrow,  there 
is  nothing  in  the  world  so  irresistibly  contagious  as  laugh- 
ter and  good-humor.  When  Scrooge's  nephew  laughed, 
Scrooge's  niece  by  marriage  laughed  as  heartily  as  he. 
And  their  assembled  friends,  being  not  a  bit  behindhand, 
laughed  out  lustily. 

"  He  said  that  Christmas  was  a  humbug,  as  I  live  !  " 
cried  Scrooge's  nephew.     "  He  believed  it  too  !  " 

"  More  shame  for  him,  Fred  !  "  said  Scrooge's  niece, 
indignantly.  Bless  those  women  !  they  never  do  any- 
thing by  halves.     They  are  always  in  earnest. 

She  was  very  pretty,  exceedingly  pretty.  With  a 
dimpled,  surprised-looking,  capital  face  ;  a  ripe  little 
mouth  that  seemed  made  to  be  kissed,  —  as  no  doubt  it 
was;  all  kinds  of  good  little  dots  about  her  chin,  that 
melted  into  one  another  when  she  laughed  ;  and  the  sunni- 
est pair  of  eyes  you  ever  saw  in  any  little  creature's  head. 
Altogether  she  was  what  you  would  have  called  provoking, 
but  satisfactory,  too.     O,  perfectly  satisfactory  ! 

"  He  's  a  comical  old  fellow,"  said  Scrooge's  nephew, 
"  that  's  the  truth ;  and  not  so  pleasant  as  he  might  be. 
However,  his  offences  carry  their  own  punishment,  and 
I  have  nothing  to  say  against  him.  Who  suffers  by  his 
ill  whims?  Himself,  always.  Here  he  takes  it  into  his 
head  to  dislike  us,  and  he  won't  come  and  dine  with  us. 
What's  the  consequence?  He  don't  lose  much  of  a 
dinner." 

"  Indeed,  I  think  he  loses  a  very  good  dinner,"  in- 
terrupted Scrooge's  niece.  Everybody  else  said  the 
same,  and  they  must  be  allowed  to  have  been  competent 
judges,  because  they  had  just  had  dinner ;  and,  with  the 
dessert  upon  the  table,  were  clustered  round  the  fire,  by 
lamplight. 

13 


194  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  Well,  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Scrooge's 
nephew,  "  because  I  have  n't  any  great  faith  in  these 
young  housekeepers.     What  do  you  say.  Topper?" 

Topper  clearly  had  his  eye  on  one  of  Scrooge's  niece's 
sisters,  for  he  answered  that  a  bachelor  was  a  wretched 
outcast,  who  had  no  right  to  express  an  opinion  on  the 
subject.  W^hereat  Scrooge's  niece's  sister  —  the  plump 
one  with  the  lace  tucker,  not  the  one  with  the  roses  — 
blushed. 

After  tea  they  had  some  music.  For  they  were  a 
musical  family,  and  knew  what  they  were  about,  when 
they  sung  a  Glee  or  Catch,  I  can  assure  you,  —  espe- 
cially Topper,  who  could  growl  away  in  the  bass  like  a 
good  one,  and  never  swell  the  large  veins  in  his  forehead, 
or  get  red  in  the  face  over  it. 

But  they  did  n't  devote  the  whole  evening  to  music. 
After  a  while  they  played  at  forfeits ;  for  it  is  good  to 
be  children  sometimes,  and  never  better  than  at  Christ- 
mas, when  its  mighty  Founder  was  a  child  himself. 
There  was  first  a  game  at  blind-man's-buff,  though.  And 
I  no  more  believe  Topper  was  really  blinded  than  I  be- 
lieve he  had  eyes  in  his  boots.  Because  the  way  in  which 
he  went  after  that  plump  sister  in  the  lace  tucker  was  an 
outrage  on  the  credulity  of  human  nature.  Knocking 
down  the  fire-irons,  tumbling  over  the  chairs,  bumping 
up  against  the  piano,  smothering  himself  among  the  cur- 
tains, wherever  she  went  there  went  he  !  He  always 
knew  where  the  plump  sister  was.  He  would  n't  catch 
anybody  else.  If  you  had  fallen  up  against  him,  as  some 
of  them  did,  and  stood  there,  he  would  have  made  a 
feint  of  endeavoring  to  seize  you,  which  would  have 
been  an  affront  to  your  understanding,  and  would 
instantly  have  sidled  off  in  the  direction  of  the  plump 
sister. 


A  Christmas   Carol  195 

"  Here  is  a  new  game,"  said  Scrooge.  "  One  lialf- 
hour,  Spirit,  only  one  !  " 

It  was  a  Game  called  Yes  and  No,  where  Scrooge's 
nephew  had  to  think  of  something,  and  the  rest  must 
find  out  what ;  he  only  answering  to  their  questions  yes 
or  no,  as  the  case  was.  The  fire  of  questioning  to  which 
he  was  exposed  elicited  from  him  that  he  was  thinking  oi 
an  animal,  a  live  animal,  rather  a  disagreeable  animal,  a 
savage  animal,  an  animal  that  growled  and  grunted  some- 
times, and  talked  sometimes,  and  lived  in  London,  and 
walked  about  the  streets,  and  was  n't  made  a  show  of, 
and  was  n't  led  by  anybody,  and  did  n't  live  in  a  me- 
nagerie, and  was  never  killed  in  a  market,  and  was  not 
a  horse,  or  an  ass,  or  a  cow,  or  a  bull,  or  a  tiger,  or  a 
dog,  or  a  pig,  or  a  cat,  or  a  bear.  At  every  new  question 
put  to  him,  this  nephew  burst  into  a  fresh  roar  of  laugh- 
ter ;  and  was  so  inexpressibly  tickled,  that  he  was  obHged 
to  get  up  off  the  sofa  and  stamp.  At  last  the  plump  sis- 
ter cried  out,  — 

"  I  have  found  it  out !  I  know  what  it  is,  Fred  !  I 
know  what  it  is  !  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  Fred. 

"  It 's  your  uncle  Scro-o-o-o-oge  !  " 

Which  it  certainly  was.  Admiration  was  the  universal 
sentiment,  though  some  objected  that  the  reply  to  "  Is 
it  a  bear?"  ought  to  have  been  "Yes." 

Uncle  Scrooge  had  imperceptibly  become  so  gay  and 
light  of  heart,  that  he  would  have  drunk  to  the  uncon- 
scious company  in  an  inaudible  speech.  But  the  whole 
scene  passed  off  in  the  breath  of  the  last  word  spoken 
by  his  nephew ;  and  he  and  the  Spirit  were  again  upon 
their  travels. 

Much  they  saw,  and  far  they  went,  and  many  homes 
they  visited,  but  always  with  a  happy  end.     The  Spirit 


196  Greatest  Short  Stories 

stood  beside  sick-beds,  and  they  were  cheerful  j  on  for- 
eign lands,  and  they  were  close  at  home  ;  by  struggling 
men,  and  they  were  patient  in  their  greater  hope ;  by 
poverty,  and  it  was  rich.  In  almshouse,  hospital,  and 
jail,  in  misery's  every  refuge,  where  vain  man  in  his  little 
brief  authority  had  not  made  fast  the  door,  and  barred 
the  Spirit  out,  he  left  his  blessing,  and  taught  Scrooge  his 
precepts.  Suddenly,  as  they  stood  together  in  an  open 
place  ;  the  bell  struck  twelve. 

Scrooge  looked  about  him  for  the  Ghost,  and  saw  it 
no  more.  As  the  last  stroke  ceased  to  vibrate,  he  re- 
membered the  prediction  of  old  Jacob  Marley,  and,  lift- 
ing up  his  eyes,  beheld  a  solemn  Phantom,  draped  and 
hooded,  coming  like  a  mist  along  the  ground  towards 
him. 

STAVE    FOUR 

THE    LAST   OF   THE   SPIRITS 

The  Phantom  slowly,  gravely,  silently  approached. 
When  it  came  near  him,  Scrooge  bent  down  upon  his 
knee  ;  for  in  the  air  through  which  this  Spirit  moved  it 
seemed  to  scatter  gloom  and  mystery. 

It  was  shrouded  in  a  deep  black  garment,  which  con- 
cealed its  head,  its  face,  its  form,  and  left  nothing  of  it 
visible  save  one  outstretched  hand.  He  knew  no  more, 
for  the  Spirit  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 

"  I  am  in  the  presence  of  the  Ghost  of  Christmas  Yet 
To  Come?  Ghost  of  the  Future  !  I  fear  you  more 
than  any  spectre  I  have  seen.  But  as  I  know  your  pur- 
pose is  to  do  me  good,  and  as  I  hope  to  live  to  be  an- 
other man  from  what  I  was,  I  am  prepared  to  bear  you 
company,  and  do  it  with  a  thankful  heart.  Will  you  not 
speak  to  me  ?  " 


A  Christmas  Carol  197 

It  gave  him  no  reply.  The  hand  was  pointed  straight 
before  them. 

"  Lead  on  !  Lead  on  !  The  night  is  waning  fast,  and 
it  is  precious  time  to  me,  I  know.     Lead  on,  Spirit !  " 

They  scarcely  seemed  to  enter  the  city ;  for  the  city 
rather  seemed  to  spring  up  about  them.  But  there  they 
were  in  the  heart  of  it ;  on  'Change,  amongst  the  mer- 
chants. 

The  Spirit  stopped  beside  one  little  knot  of  business 
men.  Observing  that  the  hand  was  pointed  to  them, 
Scrooge  advanced  to  listen  to  their  talk. 

"  No,"  said  a  great  fat  man  with  a  monstrous  chin,  "  I 
don't  know  much  about  it  either  way.  I  only  know  he  's 
dead." 

"  When  did  he  die  ?  "   inquired  another. 

"  Last  night,  I  believe." 

"Why,  what  was  the  matter  with  him?  I  thought 
he  'd  never  die." 

"God  knows,"  said  the  first,  with  a  yawn. 

"  What  has  he  done  with  his  money  ?  "  asked  a  red- 
faced  gentleman. 

"  I  have  n't  heard,"  said  the  man  with  the  large  chin. 
"Company,  perhaps.  He  hasn't  left  it  to  me.  That's 
all  I  know.     By,  by  !  " 

Scrooge  was  at  first  inclined  to  be  surprised  that  the 
Spirit  should  attach  importance  to  conversation  appar- 
ently so  trivial ;  but  feeling  assured  that  it  must  have 
some  hidden  purpose,  he  set  himself  to  consider  what 
it  was  likely  to  be.  It  could  scarcely  be  supposed  to 
have  any  bearing  on  the  death  of  Jacob,  his  old  partner, 
for  that  was  Past,  and  this  Ghost's  province  was  the 
Future. 

He  looked  about  in  that  very  place  for  his  own  image  ; 
but  another  man  stood  in  his  accustomed  corner,  and 


198  Greatest  Short  Stones 

though  the  clock  pointed  to  his  usual  time  of  clay  for 
being  there,  he  saw  no  likeness  of  himself  among  the 
multitudes  that  poured  in  through  the  Porch.  It  gave 
him  little  surprise,  however  ;  for  he  had  been  revolving 
in  his  mind  a  change  of  life,  and  he  thought  and 
hoped  he  saw  his  new-born  resolutions  carried  out  in 
this. 

They  left  this  busy  scene,  and  went  into  an  obscure 
part  of  the  town,  to  a  low  shop  where  iron,  old  rags, 
bottles,  bones,  and  greasy  offal  were  bought.  A  gray- 
haired  rascal,  of  great  age,  sat  smoking  his  pipe. 

Scrooge  and  the  Phantom  came  into  the  presence  of 
this  man,  just  as  a  woman  with  a  heavy  bundle  slunk 
into  the  shop.  But  she  had  scarcely  entered,  when 
another  woman,  similarly  laden,  came  in  too ;  and  she 
was  closely  followed  by  a  man  in  faded  black.  After  a 
short  period  of  blank  astonishment,  in  which  the  old 
man  with  the  pipe  had  joined  them,  they  all  three  burst 
into  a  laugh. 

"  Let  the  charwoman  alone  to  be  the  first !  "  cried  she 
who  had  entered  first.  "  Let  the  laundress  alone  to  be 
the  second  ;  and  let  the  undertaker's  man  alone  to  be 
the  third.  Look  here,  old  Joe,  here  's  a  chance  !  If  we 
have  n't  all  three  met  here  without  meaning  it  !  " 

"  You  could  n't  have  met  in  better  place.  You  were 
made  free  of  it  long  ago,  you  know ;  and  the  other  two 
ain't  strangers.  What  have  you  got  to  sell?  What 
have  you  got  to  sell?" 

"  Half  a  minute's  patience,  Joe,  and  you  shall  see." 

"  What  odds  then  !  What  odds,  Mrs.  Dilber?  "  said 
the  woman.  "  Every  person  has  a  right  to  take  care 
of  themselves.  He  always  did  !  Who 's  the  worse  for 
the  loss  of  a  few  things  like  these?  Not  a  dead  man, 
I  suppose." 


A  Christmas  Carol  199 

Mrs.  Dilber,  whose  manner  was  remarkable  for  gen- 
eral propitiation,  said,  "  No,  indeed,  ma'am." 

•'  If  he  wanted  to  keep  'em  after  he  was  dead,  a  wicked 
old  screw,  why  wasn't  he  natural  in  his  lifetime?  If 
he  had  been,  he  'd  have  had  somebody  to  look  after  him 
when  he  was  struck  with  Death,  instead  of  lying  gasping 
out  his  last  there,  alone  by  himself." 

'•  It 's  the  truest  word  that  ever  was  spoke  ;  it 's  a 
judgment  on  him." 

"  I  wish  it  was  a  little  heavier  judgment,  and  it  should 
have  been,  you  may  depend  upon  it,  if  I  could  have  laid 
my  hands  on  anything  else.  Open  that  bundle,  old  Joe, 
and  let  me  know  the  value  of  it.  Speak  out  plain.  I  'm 
not  afraid  to  be  the  first,  nor  afraid  for  them  to  see  it." 

Joe  went  down  on  his  knees  for  the  greater  conven- 
ience of  opening  the  bundle,  and  dragged  out  a  large 
and  heavy  roll  of  some  dark  stuff. 

"  What  do  you  call  this?     Bed-curtains  !  " 

"  Ah  !  Bed-curtains  !  Don't  drop  that  oil  upon  the 
blankets,  now." 

"Bis  blankets?" 

"  Whose  else's,  do  you  think  ?  He  is  n't  likely  to  take 
cold  without  'em,  I  dare  say.  Ah !  You  may  look 
through  that  shirt  till  your  eyes  ache-  but  you  won't 
find  a  hole  in  it,  nor  a  threadbare  place.  It  is  the  best 
he  had,  and  a  fine  one  too.  They  'd  have  wasted  it  by 
dressing  him  up  in  it,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  me." 

Scrooge  listened  to  this  dialogue  in  horror. 

"  Spirit !  I  see,  I  see.  The  case  of  this  unhappy 
man  might  be  my  own.  My  life  tends  that  way  now. 
Merciful  Heaven,  what  is  this?" 

The  scene  had  changed,  and  now  he  almost  touched  a 
bare,  uncurtained  bed.  A  pale  light,  rising  in  the  outer 
air,  fell  straight  upon  this  bed ;  and  on  it,  unwatched, 


200  Greatest  Short  Stories 

unwept,  uncared  for,  was  the  body  of  this  plundered 
unknown  man. 

"  Spirit,  let  me  see  some  tenderness  connected  with  a 
death,  or  this  dark  chamber,  Spirit,  will  be  forever 
present  to  me." 

The  Ghost  conducted  him  to  poor  Bob  Cratchit's 
house,  —  the  dwelling  he  had  visited  before,  —  and 
found  the  mother  and  the  children  seated  round  the 
fire. 

Quiet.  Very  quiet.  The  noisy  little  Cratchits  were 
as  still  as  statues  in  one  corner,  and  sat  looking  up  at 
Peter,  who  had  a  book  before  him.  The  mother  and 
her  daughters  were  engaged  in  needlework.  But  surely 
they  were  very  quiet ! 

" '  And  he  took  a  child,  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of 
them.'  " 

Where  had  Scrooge  heard  those  words?  He  had  not 
dreamed  them.  The  boy  must  have  read  them  out,  as 
he  and  the  Spirit  crossed  the  threshold.  Why  did  he 
not  go  on? 

The  mother  laid  her  work  upon  the  table,  and  put 
her  hand  up  to  her  face. 

"The  color  hurts  my  eyes,"  she  said. 

The  color?     Ah,  poor  Tiny  Tim  ! 

"  They  're  better  now  again.  It  makes  them  weak  by 
candle-light ;  and  I  would  n't  show  weak  eyes  to  your 
father  when  he  comes  home,  for  the  world.  It  must  be 
near  his  time." 

"  Past  it,  rather,"  Peter  answered,  shutting  up  his 
book.  "  But  I  think  he  has  walked  a  little  slower  than 
he  used,  these  few  last  evenings,  mother." 

"  I  have  known  him  walk  with  —  I  have  known  him 
walk  with  Tiny  Tim  upon  his  shoulder,  very  fast  indeed." 

"And  so  have  I,"  cried  Peter.     "Often." 


A  Christmas  Carol  201 

"And  so  have  I,"  exclaimed  another.     So  had  all. 

"  But  he  was  very  light  to  carry,  and  his  father  loved 
him  so,  that  it  was  no  trouble,  —  no  trouble.  And  there 
is  your  father  at  the  door  !  " 

She  hurried  out  to  meet  him  ;  and  little  Bob  in  his 
comforter  —  he  had  need  of  it,  poor  fellow  —  came  in. 
His  tea  was  ready  for  him  on  the  hob,  and  they  all  tried 
who  should  help  him  to  it  most.  Then  the  two  young 
Cratchits  got  upon  his  knees  and  laid,  each  child,  a  little 
cheek  against  his  face,  as  if  they  said,  "  Don't  mind  it, 
father.     Don't  be  grieved  !  " 

Bob  was  very  cheerful  with  them,  and  spoke  pleasantly 
to  all  the  family.  He  looked  at  the  work  upon  the 
table,  and  praised  the  industry  and  speed  of  Mrs. 
Cratchit  and  the  girls.  They  would  be  done  long 
before  Sunday,  he  said. 

"  Sunday  !     You  went  to-day,  then,  Robert?  " 

"Yes,  my  dear,"  returned  Bob.  "I  wish  you  could 
have  gone.  It  would  have  done  you  good  to  see  how 
green  a  place  it  is.  But  you  '11  see  it  often.  I  promised 
him  that  I  would  walk  there  on  a  Sunday.  My  little, 
little  child  !     My  little  child  !  " 

He  broke  down  all  at  once.  He  could  n't  help  it. 
If  he  could  have  helped  it,  he  and  the  child  would  have 
been  farther  apart,  perhaps,  than  they  were. 

"  Spectre,"  said  Scrooge,  "  something  informs  me  that 
our  parting  moment  is  at  hand.  I  know  it,  but  I  know 
not  how.  Tell  me  what  man  that  was,  with  the  covered 
face,  whom  we  saw  lying  dead  ?  " 

The  Ghost  of  Christmas  Yet  To  Come  conveyed  him 
to  a  dismal,  wretched,  ruinous  churchyard. 

The  Spirit  stood  among  the  graves,  and  pointed  down 
to  One. 

"Before  I  draw  nearer  to  that  stone  to  which   you 


202  Greatest  Short  Stories 

point,  answer  nie  one  question.  Are  these  the  shadows 
of  the  things  that  Will  be,  or  are  they  shadows  of  the 
things  that  May  be  only?" 

Still  the  Ghost  pointed  downward  to  the  grave  by 
which  it  stood. 

"  Men's  courses  will  foreshadow  certain  ends,  to 
which,  if  persevered  in,  they  must  lead.  But  if  the 
courses  be  departed  from,  the  ends  will  change.  Say  it 
is  thus  with  what  you  show  me  !  " 

The  Spirit  was  immovable  as  ever. 

Scrooge  crept  towards  it,  trembling  as  lie  went ;  and; 
following  the  finger,  read  upon  the  stone  of  the  neglected 
grave  his  own  name, —  Ebenezer  Scrooge. 

"  Am  /that  man  who  lay  upon  the  bed?     No,  Spirit  ! 

0  no,  no  !     Spirit  !  hear  me  !      I  am  not  the  man  I  was. 

1  will  not  be  the  man  I  must  have  been  but  for  this 
intercourse.  Why  show  me  this,  if  I  am  past  all  hope? 
Assure  me  that  I  yet  may  change  these  shadows  you 
have  shown  me  by  an  altered  life." 

For  the  first  time  the  kind  hand  faltered. 

"  I  will  honor  Christmas  in  my  heart,  and  try  to  keep 
it  all  the  year.  I  will  live  in  the  Past,  the  Present,  and 
the  Future.  The  Spirits  of  all  three  shall  strive  within 
me.  I  will  not  shut  out  the  lessons  that  they  teach.  O, 
tell  me  I  may  sponge  away  the  writing  on  this  stone  !  " 

Holding  up  his  hands  in  one  last  prayer  to  have  his 
fate  reversed,  he  saw  an  alteration  in  the  Phantom's 
hood  and  dress.  It  shrunk,  collapsed,  and  dwindled 
down  into  a  bedpost. 

Yes,  and  the  bedpost  was  his  own.  The  bed  was  his 
own,  the  room  was  his  own.  Best  and  happiest  of  all, 
the  Time  before  him  was  his  own,  to  make  amends  in  ! 

He  was  checked  in  his  transports  by  the  churches 
ringing  out  the  lustiest  peals  he  had  ever  heard. 


A  Christmas  Carol  203 

Running  to  the  window,  he  opened  it,  and  put  out 
his  head.  No  fog,  no  mist,  no  night ;  clear,  bright, 
stirring,  golden  day  ! 

•'What's  to-day?"  cried  Scrooge,  calling  downward 
to  a  boy  in  Sunday  clothes,  who  perhaps  had  loitered  in 
to  look  about  him. 

"Eh?" 

"  What 's  to-day,  my  fine  fellow?  " 

"  To-day  !     Why,  Christmas  day." 

"  It 's  Christmas  day  !  I  have  n't  missed  it.  Hallo, 
my  fine  fellow  !  " 

"  Hallo  !  " 

"  Do  you  know  the  Poulterer's,  in  the  next  street  but 
one,  at  the  corner?" 

"  I  should  hope  I  did." 

"  An  intelligent  boy  !  A  remarkable  boy  !  Do  you 
know  whether  they  've  sold  the  prize  Turkey  that  was 
hanging  up  there?  Not  the  little  prize  Turkey,  —  the 
big  one?  " 

"  What,  the  one  as  big  as  me  ?  " 

"  What  a  delightful  boy  !  It 's  a  pleasure  to  talk  to 
him.     Yes,  my  buck  !  " 

"  It 's  hanging  there  now." 

"  Is  it?     Go  and  buy  it." 

"  Walk-ER  !  "  exclaimed  the  boy. 

"  No,  no,  I  am  in  earnest.  Go  and  buy  it,  and  tell 
'em  to  bring  it  here,  that  I  may  give  them  the  direction 
where  to  take  it.  Come  back  with  the  man^  and  I  '11 
give  you  a  shilling.  Come  back  with  him  in  less  than 
five  minutes,  and  I  '11  give  you  half  a  crown  !  " 

The  boy  was  off  like  a  shot. 

"  I  '11  send  it  to  Bob  Cratchit's  !  He  sha'n't  know  who 
sends  it.  It 's  twice  the  size  of  Tiny  Tim.  Joe  Miller 
never  made  such  a  joke  as  sending  it  to  Bob's  will  be  !  " 


204  Greatest  Short  Stories 

The  hand  in  which  he  wrote  the  address  was  not  a 
steady  one  ;  but  write  it  he  did,  somehow,  and  went 
down  stairs  to  open  the  street  door,  ready  for  the  com- 
ing of  the  poulterer's  man. 

It  was  a  Turkey  !  He  never  could  have  stood  upon 
his  legs,  that  bird.  He  would  have  snapped  'em  short 
off  in  a  minute,  like  sticks  of  sealing-wax. 

Scrooge  dressed  himself '•' all  in  his  best,"  and  at  last 
got  out  into  the  streets.  The  people  were  by  this  time 
pouring  forth,  as  he  had  seen  them  with  the  Ghost  of 
Christmas  Present ;  and,  walking  with  his  hands  behind 
him,  Scrooge  regarded  every  one  with  a  delighted  smile. 
He  looked  so  irresistibly  pleasant,  in  a  word,  that  three 
or  four  good-humored  fellows  said,  "  Good  morning,  sir  ! 
A  merry  Christmas  to  you  !  "  and  Scrooge  said  often 
afterwards,  that,  of  all  the  blithe  sounds  he  had  ever 
heard,  those  were  the  blithest  in  his  ears. 

In  the  afternoon,  he  turned  his  steps  towards  his 
nephew's  house. 

He  passed  the  door  a  dozen  times,  before  he  had  the 
courage  to  go  up  and  knock.  But  he  made  a  dash,  and 
did  it. 

"  Is  your  master  at  home,  my  dear?  "  said  Scrooge  to 
the  girl.     Nice  girl  !     Very. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Where  is  he,  my  love?  " 

"  He  's  in  the  dining-room,  sir,  along  with  mistress." 

"  He  knows  me,"  said  Scrooge,  with  his  hand  already 
on  the  dining-room  lock.     "  I  '11  go  in  here,  my  dear." 

"  Fred  I  " 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul  !  "  cried  Fred,  "  who  's  that?  " 

"  It 's  I.  Your  uncle  Scrooge.  I  have  come  to  din- 
ner.    Will  you  let  me  in,  Fred  ?  " 

Let  him  in  !     It  is  a  mercy  he  did  n't  shake  his  arm 


A  Christmas  Carol  205 

off.  He  was  at  home  in  five  minutes.  Nothing  could 
be  heartier.  His  niece  looked  just  the  same.  So  did 
Topper  when  he  came.  So  did  the  plump  sister  when 
she  came.  So  did  every  one  when  they  came.  Won- 
derful party,  wonderful  games,  wonderful  unanimity, 
won-der-ful  happiness  ! 

But  he  was  early  at  the  office  next  morning.  O,  he 
was  early  there  !  If  he  could  only  be  there  first,  and 
catch  Bob  Cratchit  coming  late  !  That  was  the  thing  he 
had  set  his  heart  upon. 

And  he  did  it.  The  clock  struck  nine.  No  Bob.  A 
quarter  past.  No  Bob.  Bob  was  full  eighteen  minutes 
and  a  half  behind  his  time.  Scrooge  sat  with  his  door 
wide  open,  that  he  might  see  him  come  into  the  Tank. 

Bob's  hat  was  off  before  he  opened  the  door  ;  his  com- 
forter too.  He  was  on  his  stool  in  a  jiffy  ;  driving  away 
with  his  pen,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  overtake  nine 
o'clock. 

"  Hallo  !  "  growled  Scrooge  in  his  accustomed  voice, 
as  near  as  he  could  feign  it.  "  What  do  you  mean  by 
coming  here  at  this  time  of  day?  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir.      I  am  behind  my  time." 

"  You  are  ?  Yes.  I  think  you  are.  Step  this  way, 
if  you  please," 

"  It 's  only  once  a  year,  sir.  It  shall  not  be  repeated. 
I  was  making  rather  merry  yesterday,  sir." 

"  Now,  I  '11  tell  you  what,  my  friend.  I  am  not  going 
to  stand  this  sort  of  thing  any  longer.  And  therefore," 
Scrooge  continued,  leaping  from  his  stool,  and  giving 
Bob  such  a  dig  in  the  waistcoat  that  he  staggered  back 
into  the  Tank  again,  —  "  and  therefore  I  am  about  to 
raise  your  salary  !  " 

Bob  trembled,  and  got  a  little  nearer  to  the  ruler. 

"  A  merry  Christmas,   Bob  !  "  said  Scrooge,  with  an 


2o6  Greatest  Short  Stories 

earnestness  that  could  not  be  mistaken,  as  he  clapped 
him  on  the  back.  "  A  merrier  Christmas,  Bob,  my  good 
fellow,  than  I  have  given  you  for  many  a  year  !  1  '11 
raise  your  salary,  and  endeavor  to  assist  your  struggling 
fiimily,  and  we  will  discuss  your  affairs  this  very  after- 
noon, over  a  Christmas  bowl  of  smoking  bishop.  Bob  ! 
Make  up  the  fires,  and  buy  a  second  coal-scuttle  before 
you  dot  another  i,  Bob  Cratchit !  " 

Scrooge  was  better  than  his  word.  He  did  it  all,  and 
infinitely  more  ;  and  to  Tiny  Tim,  who  did  not  die,  he 
was  a  second  father.  He  became  as  good  a  friend,  as 
good  a  master,  and  as  good  a  man  as  the  good  old  city 
knew,  or  any  other  good  old  city,  town,  or  borough  in 
the  good  old  world.  Some  people  laughed  to  see  the 
alteration  in  him  ;  but  his  own  heart  laughed,  and  that 
was  quite  enough  for  him. 

He  had  no  further  intercourse  with  spirits,  but  lived 
in  that  respect  upon  the  total-abstinence  principle  ever 
afterward  ;  and  it  was  always  said  of  him,  that  he  knew 
how  to  keep  Christmas  well,  if  any  man  alive  possessed 
the  knowledge.  May  that  be  truly  said  of  us,  and  all  of 
us  !  And  so,  as  Tiny  Tim  observed,  God  bless  us,  every 
one  1 


VII 

A    PRINCESS'S    TRAGEDY 


A    PRINCESS'S    TRAGEDY 

FROM 

^^BJRRT  LTNDON" 

By    W.    M.    THACKERAY 

INTRODUCTORY 
THE    POWER    OF    RESERVE 

ATTENTION  has  already  been  called  to 
the  fact  that  prose  style  was  a  contribu- 
tion of  the  essayists  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  We  have  seen  that  at  its  best  it  was 
constantly  lending  itself  to  fiction,  until  fiction 
practically  monopolized  it.  Among  writers  of 
fiction  it  was  Thackeray  who  perfected  and  made 
best  use  of  it.  He  is  the  acknowledged  master  of 
limpid  and  beautiful  style. 

We  shall  find  it  instructive  to  compare  the  styles 
of  Dickens  and  Thackeray.  The  first  thing  that 
strikes  us  in  Thackeray  is  the  even,  musical  flow 
of  his  sentences,  his  words  tripping  along  with 
never  an  ungraceful  angle.  The  sentences  of 
Dickens  are  more  on  a  dead  level  of  monotony; 
but  he  secures  variety  by  piling  up  his  phrases, 
one  on  top  of  another,  and  arranging  them  in  all 
kinds  of  fantastic  geometrical  figures,  so  to  speak. 

14 


2IO  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Eacli  succeeding  section  of  his  work  seems  to 
bloom  forth,  opening  in  a  splendid  flower,  like  an 
expanding  rose.  His  methods  are  mechanical  to 
a  considerable  extent,  like  the  methods  of  verse; 
but  he  attains  great  variety,  and  holds  the  reader 
by  the  tender  feeling  that  is  ever  springing  up 
afresh  in  his  heart,  to  be  poured  into  his  charac- 
ters. With  Thackeray,  all  is  refinement  and  pol- 
ish, all  is  graceful,  easy  movement;  his  humor  is 
whimsical,  like  that  of  the  essayists,  never  senti- 
mental ;  and  he  is  ever  restrained,  as  a  gentleman 
should  be.  "  A  Princess's  Tragedy "  is  as  free 
from  exaggeration  as  "  Patient  Griselda "  or 
"Aladdin;"  but  Thackeray  is  deliberate  in  his 
withholding,  while  the  earlier  writers  were  igno- 
rant of  the  art  of  expansion.  As  a  result,  we  seem 
to  see  all  that  is  left  unexpressed  and  much  more. 
This  is  because  Thackeray  saw  it,  and  that  which 
he  did  not  describe  still  left  its  impress  upon  what 
he  did.  In  Thackeray,  words  seemed  to  gain  at- 
mospheres and  aromas  of  their  own,  due  to  the 
delicate  and  suggestive  turning  of  his  phrases. 
Dickens's  method  was  more  obvious,  more  strik- 
ing, and  hence  more  attractive,  except  to  the  judi- 
cious few.  The  refinements  of  Thackeray's  style 
are  more  difficult  to  describe,  and  can  be  mastered 
and  imitated  only  by  those  who  are  especially  sen- 
sitive to  delicate  shades  of  meanings  in  words. 

In  "  A  Princess's  Tragedy "  we  find  none  of 
the  light  and  winning  humor  which  characterizes 
"  Vanity  Fair,"  for  example ;  and  if  we  compare 


A  Princess's 'Tragedy  211 

the  two  we  shall  easily  perceive  the  quality  which 
made  that  book  so  much  more  popular  than  "  Barry 
Lyndon."  The  story  has  all  the  elements  of  the 
blood-and-thunder  dime  novel,  but  Thackeray's 
reserve,  as  well  as  his  art,  raises  it  into  a  drama 
awful  and  majestic. 

A   PRINCESS'S   TRAGEDY 

ROSINA  of  Liliengarten  it  was,  indeed  —  such  a  full 
blown  Rosina  I  have  seldom  seen.  I  found  her  in 
a  decent  first-floor  in  Leicester  Fields  (the  poor  soul 
fell  much  lower  afterwards)  drinking  tea,  which  had 
somehow  a  very  strong  smell  of  brandy  in  it ;  and 
after  salutations,  which  would  be  more  tedious  to 
recount  than  they  were  to  perform,  and  after  further 
straggling  conversation,  she  gave  me  briefly  the  fol- 
lowing narrative   of  the  events  in  X ,  which  I  may 

well  entitle  the  "  Princess's  Tragedy." 

"You  remember  Monsieur  de  Geldern,  the  Police 
Minister.  He  was  of  Dutch  extraction,  and,  what  is 
more,  of  a  family  of  Dutch  Jews.  Although  every- 
body was  aware  of  this  blot  in  his  scutcheon,  he  was 
mortally  angry  if  ever  his  origin  was  suspected ;  and 
made  up  for  his  father's  errors  by  outrageous  professions 
of  religion,  and  the  most  austere  practices  of  devotion. 
He  visited  church  every  morning,  confessed  once  a  week, 
and  hated  Jews  and  Protestants  as  much  as  an  inquisitor 
could  do.  He  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  proving  his 
sincerity,  by  persecuting  one  or  the  other  whenever  oc- 
casion fell  in  his  way. 

"  He  hated  the  princess  mortally ;  for  her  highness  in 


212  Greatest  Sliort  Stories 

some  whim  had  insulted  him  with  his  origin,  caused  pork 
to  be  removed  from  before  him  at  table,  or  injured  him 
in  some  such  silly  way  ;  and  he  had  a  violent  animosity 
to  the  old  Baron  de  Magny,  both  in  his  capacity  of 
Protestant,  and  because  the  latter  in  some  haughty  mood 
had  publicly  turned  his  back  upon  him  as  a  sharper  and 
a  spy.  Perpetual  quarrels  were  taking  place  between 
them  in  council ;  where  it  was  only  the  presence  of  his 
august  masters  that  restrained  the  baron  from  publicly 
and  frequently  expressing  the  contempt  which  he  felt  for 
the  officer  of  police. 

"  Thus  Geldern  had  hatred  as  one  reason  for  ruining 
the  princess,  and  it  is  my  belief  he  had  a  stronger  motive 
still  —  interest.  You  remember  whom  the  duke  married, 
after   the   death  of  his  first  wife? — a   princess  of  the 

house    of    F .      Geldern   built  his  fine  palace  two 

years  after,  and,  as  I  feel  convinced,  with  the  money  which 

was  paid  to  him  by  the  F family  for  forwarding  the 

match. 

"To  go  to  Prince  Victor,  and  report  to  his  highness  a 
case  which  everybody  knew,  was  not  by  any  means 
Geldern's  desire.  He  knew  the  man  would  be  ruined 
forever  in  the  prince's  estimation  who  carried  him  in- 
telligence so  disastrous.  His  aim,  therefore,  was,  to  leave 
the  matter  to  explain  itself  to  his  highness ;  and,  when 
the  time  was  ripe,  he  cast  about  for  a  means  of  carrying 
his  point.  He  had  spies  in  the  houses  of  the  elder  and 
younger  Magny ;  but  this  you  know,  of  course,  from  your 
experience  of  Continental  customs.  We  had  all  spies 
over  each  other.  Your  black  (Zamor,  I  think,  was  his 
name)  used  to  give  me  reports  every  morning ;  and  I 
used  to  entertain  the  dear  old  duke  with  stories  of  you 
and  your  uncle  practising  piquet  and  dice  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  with  your  quarrels   and   intrigues.     We  levied 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  213 

similar  contributions  on  everybody  in  X ,  to  amuse 

the  dear  old  man.     Monsieur  de  Magny's  valet  used  to 
report  both  to  me  and  Monsieur  de  Geldern. 

"  I  knew  of  the  fact  of  the  emerald  being  in  pawn ; 
and  it  was  out  of  my  exchequer  that  the  poor  princess 
drew  the  funds  which  were  spent  upon  the  odious  Lowe, 
and  the  still  more  worthless  young  chevalier.  How  the 
princess  could  trust  the  latter  as  she  persisted  in  doing, 
is  beyond  my  comprehension  ;  but  there  is  no  infatua- 
tion like  that  of  a  woman  in  love,  and  you  will  remark, 
my  dear  Monsieur  de  Balibari,  that  our  sex  generally  fix 
upon  a  bad  man." 

"  Not  always,  Madam,"  I  interposed  ;  "  your  humble 
servant  has  created  many  such  attachments." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  that  affects  the  truth  of  the  proposi- 
tion," said  the  old  lady  dryly,  and  continued  her  narrative. 
"  The  Jew  who  held  the  emerald  had  had  many  dealings 
with  the  princess,  and  at  last  was  offered  a  bribe  of  such 
magnitude,  that  he  determined  to  give  up  the  pledge. 
He  committed  the  inconceivable  imprudence  of  bringing 

the  emerald  with  him   to  X ,  and  waited  on  Magny, 

who  was  provided  by  the  princess  with  the  money  to  re- 
deem the  pledge,  and  was  actually  ready  to  pay  it. 

"Their  interview  took  place  in  Magny's  own  apart- 
ments, when  his  valet  overheard  every  word  of  their 
conversation.  The  young  man,  who  was  always  utterly 
careless  of  money  when  it  was  in  his  possession,  was  so 
easy  in  offering  it,  that  Lowe  rose  in  his  demands,  and 
had  the  conscience  to  ask  double  the  sum  for  which  he 
had  previously  stipulated. 

"  At  this  the  chevalier  lost  all  patience,  fell  on  the 
wretch,  and  was  for  killing  him ;  when  the  opportune 
valet  rushed  in  and  saved  him.  The  man  had  heard 
every  word  of  the  conversation  between  the  disputants, 


214  Greatest  Short  Stories 

and  the  Jew  ran  flying  with  terror  into  his  arms  ;  and 
Magny,  a  quick  and  passionate  but  not  a  violent  man. 
bade  the  servant  lead  the  villain  down  stairs,  and 
thought    no    more   of   him. 

"  Perhaps  he  was  not  sorry  to  be  rid  of  him,  and  to 
have  in  his  possession  a  large  sum  of  money,  four  thou- 
sand ducats,  with  which  he  could  tempt  fortune  once 
more  ;  as  you  know  he  did  at  your  table  that  night." 

"  Your  ladyship  went  halves,  Madam,"  said  I ;  "  and 
you  know  how  little  I  was  the  better  for  my  winnings." 

"  The  man  conducted  the  trembling  Israelite  out  of 
the  palace,  and  no  sooner  had  seen  him  lodged  at  the 
house  of  one  of  his  brethren,  where  he  was  accustomed 
to  put  up,  than  he  went  away  to  the  office  of  his  Excel- 
lency the  Minister  of  Police,  and  narrated  every  word  of 
the  conversation  which  had  taken  place  between  the  Jew 
and  his  master. 

"  Geldern  expressed  the  greatest  satisfaction  at  his 
spy's  prudence  and  fidelity.  He  gave  him  a  purse  of 
twenty  ducats,  and  promised  to  provide  for  him  hand- 
somely :  as  great  men  do  sometimes  promise  to  reward 
their  instruments ;  but  you.  Monsieur  de  Balibari,  know 
how  seldom  those  promises  are  kept.  '  Now,  go  and 
find  out,'  said  INIonsieur  de  Geldern,  'at what  time  the 
Israelite  proposes  to  return  home  again,  or  whether  he 
will  repent  and  take  the  money.'  The  man  went  on 
this  errand.  Meanwhile,  to  make  matters  sure,  Geldern 
arranged  a  play-party  at  my  house,  inviting  you  thither 
with  your  bank,  as  you  may  remember ;  and  finding 
means,  at  the  same  time,  to  let  Maxime  de  Magny  know 
that  there  was  to  be  faro  at  Madame  de  Liliengarten's, 
It  was  an  invitation  the  poor  fellow  never  neglected." 

I  remembered  the  facts,  and  listened  on,  amazed  at 
the  artifice  of  the  infernal  Minister  of  Police. 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  215 

"The  spy  came  back  from  his  message  to  Lowe,  and 
stated  that  he  had  made  inquiries  among  the  servants  of 
the  house  where  the  Heidelberg  banker  lodged,  and  that 
it  was  the  latter's  intention  to  leave  X that  after- 
noon. He  travelled  by  himself,  riding  an  old  horse, 
exceedingly  humbly  attired,  after  the  manner  of  his 
people. 

"  '  Johann,'  said  the  Minister,  clapping  the  pleased  spy 
upon  the  shoulder,  'I  am  more  and  more  pleased  with 
you.  1  have  been  thinking,  since  you  left  me,  of  your 
intelligence,  and  the  faithful  manner  in  which  you  have 
served  me  ;  and  shall  soon  find  an  occasion  to  place  you 
according  to  your  merits.  Which  way  does  this  Israel- 
itish  scoundrel  take  ? ' 

"  '  He  goes  to  R to-night.' 

"  '  And  must  pass  by  the  Kaiserwald.  Are  you  a  man 
of  courage,  Johann  Kerner?' 

" '  Will  your  Excellency  try  me  ? '  said  the  man,  his 
eyes  glittering  :  '  I  served  through  the  Seven  Years'  War, 
and  was  never  known  to  fail  there.' 

" '  Now,  listen.  The  emerald  must  be  taken  from 
that  Jew  :  in  the  very  keeping  it  the  scoundrel  has  com- 
mitted high  treason.  To  the  man  who  brings  me  that 
emerald  I  swear  I  will  give  five  hundred  louis.  You 
understand  why  it  is  necessary  that  it  should  be  restored 
to  her  highness.     I  need  say  no  more.' 

"'You  shall  have  it  to-night,  sir,'  said  the  man.  'Of 
course  your  Excellency  will  hold  me  harmless  in  case 
of  accident.' 

"  '  Psha  !  '  answered  the  Minister  ;  '  I  will  pay  you 
half  the  money  beforehand ;  such  is  my  confidence  in 
you.  Accident 's  impossible,  if  you  take  your  measures 
properly.  There  are  four  leagues  of  wood ;  the  Jew 
rides  slowly.     It  will  be  night  before  he  can   reach,  let 


2i6  Greatest  Short  Stories 

us  say.  the  old  PowJcr-Mill  in  the  wood.  What's  to 
prevent  you  from  putting  a  rope  across  the  road,  and 
deahng  with  him  there?  Be  back  with  me  this  even- 
ing at  supper.  If  you  meet  any  of  the  patrol,  say 
"  Foxes  are  loose,"  —  that  's  the  word  for  to-night. 
They  will  let    you  pass   them  without  questions.' 

"  The  man  went  off  quite  charmed  with  his  commis- 
sion ;  and  when  Magny  was  losing  his  money  at  our 
faro-table,  his  servant  waylaid  the  Jew  at  the  spot 
named  the  Powder-Mill  in  the  Kaiservvald.  The  Jew's 
horse  stumbled  over  a  rope  which  had  been  placed 
across  the  road  ;  and,  as  the  rider  fell  groaning  to  the 
ground,  Johann  Kerner  rushed  out  on  him,  masked, 
and  pistol  in  hand,  and  demanded  his  money.  He 
had  no  wish  to  kill  the  Jew,  I  believe,  unless  his  re- 
sistance should  render   extreme  measures  necessary. 

"  Nor  did  he  commit  any  such  murder ;  for,  as  the 
yelling  Jew  roared  for  mercy,  and  his  assailant  menaced 
him  with  a  pistol,  a  squad  of  patrol  came  up,  and  laid 
hold  of  the  robber  and  the  wounded  man. 

"  Kerner  swore  an  oath.  *  You  have  come  too  soon,' 
said  he  to  the  sergeant  of  the  police.  *  Foxes  are  loose. ^ 
'  Some  are  caught,'  said  the  sergeant,  quite  uncon- 
cerned ;  and  bound  the  fellow's  hands  with  the  rope 
which  he  had  stretched  across  the  road  to  entrap  the 
Jew.  He  was  placed  behind  a  policeman  on  a  horse  ; 
Lowe  was  similarly  accommodated,  and  the  party  thus 
came  back  into  the  town  as  the  night  fell. 

"  They  were  taken  forthwith  to  the  police  quarter  \ 
and,  as  the  chief  happened  to  be  there,  they  were  ex- 
amined by  his  Excellency  in  person.  Both  were  rigor- 
ously searched  ;  the  Jew's  papers  and  cases  taken  from 
him  :  the  jewel  was  found  in  a  private  pocket.  As  for  the 
spy,  the  Minister,  looking  at  him   angrily,   said,  '  Why, 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  217 

this  is  the  servant  of  the  ChevaHer  de  Magny,  one  of  her 
highness's  equerries  ! '  and  without  hearing  a  word  in 
exculpation  from  the  poor  frightened  wretch,  ordered 
him  into  close  confinement. 

"  Calling  for  his  horse,  he  then  rode  to  the  prince's 
apartments  at  the  palace,  and  asked  for  an  instant 
audience.  When  admitted,  he  produced  the  emerald. 
*  This  jewel,'  said  he,  '  has  been  found  on  the  person  of  a 
Heidelberg  Jew,  who  has  been  here  repeatedly  of  late, 
and  has  had  many  dealings  with  her  highness's  equerry, 
the  Chevalier  de  Magny.  This  afternoon  the  cheva- 
lier's servant  came  from  his  master's  lodgings,  accompa- 
nied by  the  Hebrew ;  was  heard  to  make  inquiries  as  to 
the  route  the  man  intended  to  take  on  his  way  home- 
wards ;  followed  him,  or  preceded  him  rather,  and  was 
found  in  the  act  of  rifling  his  victim  by  my  police  in 
the  Kaiserwald.  The  man  will  confess  nothing ;  but, 
on  being  searched,  a  large  sum  in  gold  was  found  on 
his  person ;  and  though  it  is  with  the  utmost  pain  that 
I  can  bring  myself  to  entertain  such  an  opinion,  and  to 
implicate  a  gentleman  of  the  character  and  name  of 
Monsieur  de  Magny,  I  do  submit  that  our  duty  is  to 
have  the  chevalier  examined  relative  to  the  affair.  As 
Monsieur  de  Magny  is  in  her  highness's  private  service, 
and  in  her  confidence,  I  have  heard,  I  would  not  ven- 
ture to  apprehend  him  without  your  highness's  per- 
mission.' 

"  The  prince's  master  of  the  horse,  a  friend  of  the  old 
Baron  de  Magny,  who  was  present  at  the  interview,  no 
sooner  heard  the  strange  intelligence,  than  he  hastened 
away  to  the  old  general,  with  the  dreadful  news  of  his 
grandson's  supposed  crime.  Perhaps  his  highness  him- 
self was  not  unwilling  that  his  old  frieml  and  tutor  in 
arms  should  have  the  chance  of  saving  his  family  from 


2iS  Greatest  Short  Stories 

disgrace ;  at  all  events,  Monsieur  de  Hengst,  the  Master 
of  the  Horse,  was  permitted  to  go  off  to  the  baron  un- 
disturbed, and  break  to  him  the  intelligence  of  the  accu- 
sation pending  over  the  unfortunate  chevalier. 

"  It  is  possible  that  he  expected  some  such  dread- 
ful catastrophe,  for,  after  hearing  Hengst's  narrative  (as 
the  latter  afterwards  told  me),  he  only  said,  *  Heaven's 
will  be  done  !  '  for  some  time  refused  to  stir  a  step  in  the 
matter,  and  then  only  by  the  solicitation  of  his  friend, 
was  induced  to  write  the  letter  which  Maxime  de  Magny 
received  at  our  play-table. 

"  Whilst  he  was  there,  squandering  the  princess's 
money,  a  police  visit  was  paid  to  his  apartments,  and  a 
hundred  proofs,  not  of  his  guilt  with  respect  to  the 
robbery,  but  of  his  guilty  connection  with  the  princess, 
were  discovered  there,  —  tokens  of  her  giving,  passion- 
ate letters  from  her,  copies  of  his  own  correspondence 
to  his  young  friends  at  Paris,  —  all  of  which  the  Police 
Minister  perused,  and  carefully  put  together  under  seal 
for  his  highness,  Prince  Victor.  I  have  no  doubt  he 
perused  them,  for,  on  delivering  them  to  the  hereditary 
prince,  Geldern  said  that  in  obedience  to  his  highnesses  or- 
ders, he  had  collected  the  chevalier's  papers  ;  but  he  need 
not  say  that,  on  his  honor,  he  (Geldern)  himself  had  never 
examined  the  documents.  His  difference  with  Messieurs 
de  Magny  was  known  ;  he  begged  his  highness  to  employ 
any  other  official  person  in  the  judgment  of  the  accusa- 
tion brought  against  the  young  chevalier. 

"  All  these  things  were  going  on  while  the  chevalier 
was  at  play.  A  run  of  luck  —  you  had  great  luck  in 
those  days.  Monsieur  de  Balibari  —  was  against  him.  He 
stayed  and  lost  his  four  thousand  ducats.  He  received 
his  uncle's  note,  and,  such  was  the  infatuation  of  the 
wretched  gambler,  that,  on  receipt  of  it,  he  went  down 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  219 

to  the  courtyard,  where  the  horse  was  in  waiting,  abso- 
lutely took  the  money  which  the  poor  old  gentleman  had 
placed  in  the  saddle- holsters,  brought  it  up  stairs,  played 
it  and  lost  it ;  and  when  he  issued  from  the  room  to  fly, 
it  was  too  late  :  he  was  placed  in  arrest  at  the  bottom  of 
my  staircase,  as  you  were  upon  entering  your  own  home. 

"  Even  when  he  came  in  under  the  charge  of  the  sol- 
diery sent  to  arrest  him,  the  old  general,  who  was  waiting, 
was  overjoyed  to  see  him,  and  flung  himself  into  the  lad's 
arms,  and  embraced  him  :  it  was  said,  for  the  first  time 
in  many  years.  *  He  is  here,  gentlemen,'  he  sobbed 
out,  —  '  thank  God  he  is  not  guilty  of  the  robbery  !  '  and 
then  sank  back  in  a  chair  in  a  burst  of  emotion,  painful, 
it  was  said  by  those  present,  to  witness  on  the  part  of  a 
man  so  brave,  and  known  to  be  so  cold  and  stern. 

"  *  Robbery  ! '  said  the  young  man.  '  I  swear  before 
Heaven  I  am  guilty  of  none  !  '  and  a  scene  of  almost 
touching  reconciliation  passed  between  them,  before  the 
unhappy  young  man  was  led  from  the  guard-house  into 
the  prison  which  he  was  destined  never  to  quit. 

"  That  night  the  duke  looked  over  the  papers  which 
Geldern  had  brought  to  him.  It  was  at  a  very  early  stage 
of  the  perusal,  no  doubt,  that  he  gave  orders  for  your 
arrest ;  for  you  were  taken  at  midnight,  Magny  at  ten 
o'clock ;  after  which  time  the  old  Baron  de  Magny  had 
seen  his  highness,  protesting  of  his  grandson's  innocence, 
and  the  prince  had  received  him  most  graciously  and 
kindly.  His  highness  said  he  had  no  doubt  the  young 
man  was  innocent ;  his  birth  and  his  blood  rendered  such 
a  crime  impossible ;  but  suspicion  was  too  strong  against 
him  :  he  was  known  to  have  been  that  day  closeted  with 
the  Jew ;  to  have  received  a  very  large  sum  of  money 
which  he  squandered  at  play,  and  of  which  the  Hebrew 
had,  doubtless,  been  the  lender,  —  to  have  despatched 


2  20  Greatest  Short  Stories 

his  servant  after  him,  who  inquired  the  hour  of  the  Jew's 
departure,  lay  in  wait  for  him,  and  rifled  him.  Suspicion 
was  so  strong  against  the  chevalier,  that  common  justice 
required  his  arrest ;  and,  meanwhile,  until  he  cleared  him- 
self, he  should  be  kept  in  not  dishonorable  durance,  and 
every  regard  had  for  his  name,  and  the  services  of  his 
honorable  grandfather.  With  this  assurance,  and  with  a 
warm  grasp  of  the  hand,  the  prince  left  old  General  de 
Magny  that  night ;  and  the  veteran  retired  to  rest,  almost 
consoled  and  confident  in  Maxima's  eventual  and  imme- 
diate release. 

"  But  in  the  morning,  before  daybreak,  the  prince,  who 
had  been  reading  papers  all  night,  wildly  called  to  the 
page,  who  slept  in  the  next  room  across  the  door,  bade 
him  get  horses,  which  were  always  kept  in  readiness  in 
the  stables,  and,  flinging  a  parcel  of  letters  into  a  box, 
told  the  page  to  follow  him  on  horseback  with  these. 
The  young  man  (Monsieur  de  Weissenborn)  told  this  to 
a  young  lady  who  was  then  of  my  household,  and  who  is 
now  Madame  de  Weissenborn,  and  mother  of  a  score 
of  children. 

"The  page  described  that  never  was  such  a  change 
seen  as  in  his  august  master  in  the  course  of  that  single 
night.  His  eyes  were  bloodshot,  his  face  livid,  his  clothes 
were  hanging  loose  about  him,  and  he  who  had  always 
made  his  appearance  on  parade  as  precisely  dressed  as 
any  sergeant  of  his  troops,  might  have  been  seen  gallop- 
ing through  the  lonely  streets  at  early  dawn  without  a 
hat,  his  unpowdered  hair  streaming  behind  him  like  a 
madman. 

"  The  page,  with  the  box  of  papers,  clattered  after  his 
master,  —  it  was  no  easy  task  to  follow  him  ;  and  they 
rode  from  the  palace  to  the  town,  and  through  it  to  the 
general's  quarter.     The  sentinels  at  the  door  were  scared 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  221 

at  the  strange  figure  that  rushed  up  to  the  general's  gate, 
and,  not  knowing  him,  crossed  bayonets,  and  refused  him 
admission.  '  Fools,'  said  Weissenborn, '  it  is  the  prince  ! ' 
And,  jangling  at  the  bell  as  if  for  an  alarm  of  fire,  the 
door  was  at  length  opened  by  the  porter,  and  his  high- 
ness ran  up  to  the  general's  bedchamber,  followed  by  the 
page  with  the  box. 

"  '  Magny  —  Magny,'  roared  the  prince,  thundering  at 
the  closed  door,  'get  up  !'  And  to  the  queries  of  the 
old  man  from  within,  answered,  '  It  is  I  —  Victor  —  the 
prince  !  — get  up  ! '  And  presently  the  door  was  opened 
by  the  general  in  his  robe-de-chambre,  and  the  prince 
entered.  The  page  brought  in  the  box,  and  was  bidden 
to  wait  without,  which  he  did ;  but  there  led  from  Mon- 
sieur de  Magny's  bedroom  into  his  ante-chamber  two 
doors,  the  great  one  which  formed  the  entrance  into  his 
room,  and  a  smaller  one  which  led,  as  the  fashion  is  with 
our  houses  abroad,  into  the  closet  which  communicates 
with  the  alcove  where  the  bed  is.  The  door  of  this  was 
found  by  M.  de  Weissenborn  to  be  open,  and  the  young 
man  was  thus  enabled  to  hear  and  see  everything  which 
occurred  within  the  apartment. 

"The  general,  somewhat  nervously,  asked  what  was 
the  reason  of  so  early  a  visit  from  his  highness  ;  to  which 
the  prince  did  not  for  a  while  reply,  farther  than  by  star- 
ing at  him  rather  wildly,  and  pacing  up  and  down  the 
room. 

"  At  last  he  said,  '  Here  is  the  cause  !  '  dashing  his  fist 
on  the  box ;  and,  as  he  had  forgotten  to  bring  the  key 
with  him,  he  went  to  the  door  for  a  moment,  saying, 
'  Weissenborn  perhaps  has  it ; '  but,  seeing  over  the  stove 
one  of  the  general's  couteaux  de  chasse,  he  took  it  down, 
and  said,  '  That  will  do,'  and  fell  to  work  to  burst  the 
red  trunk  open  with  the  blade  of  the  forest- knife.      The 


2  22  Greatest  Short  Stories 

point  broke,  and  he  gave  an  oath,  but  continued  haggling 
on  with  the  broken  blade,  which  was  better  suited  to  his 
purpose  than  the  long,  pointed  knife,  and  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  wrenching  open  the  lid  of  the  chest. 

"'What  is  the  matter?'  said  he,  laughing.  'Here's 
the  matter  ;  —  read  that !  —  here  's  more  matter,  read 
that !  —  here  's  more  —  no,  not  that ;  that 's  somebody 
else's  picture  —  but  here  's  hers  !  Do  you  know  that, 
Magny?  My  wife's  —  the  princess's!  Why  did  you 
and  your  cursed  race  ever  come  out  of  France,  to  plant 
your  infernal  wickedness  wherever  your  feet  fell,  and  to 
ruin  honest  German  homes?  What  have  you  and  yours 
ever  had  from  my  family  but  confidence  and  kindness? 
We  gave  you  a  home  when  you  had  none,  and  here  's  our 
reward  ! '  and  he  flung  a  parcel  of  papers  down  before 
the  old  general,  who  saw  the  truth  at  once  :  —  he  had 
known  it  long  before,  probably,  and  sunk  down  on  his 
chair,  covering  his  face. 

"  The  prince  went  on  gesticulating,  and  shrieking  al- 
most. '  If  a  man  injured  you  so,  Magny,  before  you 
begot  the  father  of  that  gambling,  lying  villain  yonder, 
you  would  have  known  how  to  revenge  yourself.  You 
would  have  killed  him  !  Yes,  would  have  killed  him. 
But  who  's  to  help  me  to  my  revenge  ?  I  've  no  equal. 
I  can't  meet  that  dog  of  a  Frenchman,  —  that  pimp  from 
Versailles,  and  kill  him,  as  if  he  had  played  the  traitor 
to  one  of  his  own  degree.' 

"  '  The  blood  of  Maxime  de  Magny,'  said  the  old 
gentleman,  proudly,  '  is  as  good  as  that  of  any  prince  in 
Christendom.' 

"  '  Can  I  take  it  ?  '  cried  the  prince  :  '  you  know  I 
can't.  I  can't  have  the  privilege  of  any  other  gentleman 
of  Europe.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  Look  here,  Magny  :  I 
was  wild  when  I  came  here  :   I  did  n't  know  what  to  do. 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  223 

You  've  served  me  for  thirty  years ;  you  Ve  saved  my  life 
twice  :  they  are  all  knaves  and  harlots  about  my  poor  old 
father  here  —  no  honest  men  or  women  —  you  are  the 
only  one  —  you  saved  my  life  :  tell  me  what  am  I  to  do  ?  ' 
Thus,  from  insulting  Monsieur  de  Magny,  the  poor  dis- 
tracted prince  fell  to  supplicating  him  ;  and,  at  last,  fairly 
flung  himself  down,  and  burst  out  in  an  agony  of  tears. 

"  Old  Magny,  one  of  the  most  rigid  and  cold  of  men 
on  common  occasions,  when  he  saw  this  outbreak  of  pas- 
sion on  the  prince's  part,  became,  as  my  informant  has 
described  to  me,  as  much  affected  as  his  master.  The  old 
man  from  being  cold  and  high,  suddenly  fell,  as  it  were, 
into  the  whimpering  querulousness  of  extreme  old  age. 
He  lost  all  sense  of  dignity  :  he  went  down  on  his  knees, 
and  broke  out  into  all  sorts  of  wild,  incoherent  attempts 
at  consolation ;  so  much  so,  that  Weissenborn  said  he 
could  not  bear  to  look  at  the  scene,  and  actually  turned 
away  from  the  contemplation  of  it. 

"  But,  from  what  followed  in  a  few  days,  we  may  guess 
the  results  of  the  long  interview.  The  prince,  when  he 
came  away  from  the  conversation  with  his  old  servant, 
forgot  his  fatal  box  of  papers  and  sent  the  page  back  for 
them.  The  general  was  on  his  knees  praying  in  the 
room  when  the  young  man  entered,  and  only  stirred  and 
looked  round  wildly  as  the  other  removed  the  packet. 
The   prince   rode    away    to  his   hunting-lodge   at    three 

leagues   from   X ,  and  three  days  after  that  Maxime 

de  Magny  died  in  prison  ;  having  made  a  confession  that 
he  was  engaged  in  an  attempt  to  rob  the  Jew,  and  that 
he  had  made  away  with  himself,  ashamed  of  his  dis- 
honor. 

"  But  it  is  not  known  that  it  was  the  general  himself 
who  took  his  grandson  poison  :  it  was  said  even  that  he 
shot  him  in  the  prison.    This,  however,  was  not  the  case. 


2  24  Greatest  Short  Stories 

General  de  Magny  carried  his  grandson  the  draught 
which  was  to  carry  him  out  of  the  world ;  represented  to 
the  wretched  youth  that  his  fate  was  inevitable  ;  that  it 
would  be  public  and  disgraceful  unless  he  chose  to  an- 
ticipate the  punishment,  and  so  left  him.  But  it  was 
not  of  his  own  accord  and  not  until  he  had  used  every 
means  of  escape,  as  you  shall  hear,  that  the  unfortunate 
being's  life  was  brought  to  an  end. 

"  As  for  General  de  Magny,  he  quite  fell  into  imbecil- 
ity a  short  time  after  his  nephew's  death,  and  my  honored 
duke's  demise.     After  his  highness  the  prince  married 

the  Princess  Mary  of  F ,  as  they  were  walking  in  the 

English  park  together  they  once  met  old  Magny  riding 
in  the  sun  in  the  easy  chair,  in  which  he  was  carried 
commonly  abroad  after  his  paralytic  fits.  '  This  is  my 
wife,  Magny,'  said  the  Prince,  affectionately,  taking  the 
veteran's  hand  :  and  he  added,  turning  to  his  princess, 
'  General  de  Magny  saved  my  life  during  the  Seven  Years' 
War.' 

"  '  What,  you  've  taken  her  back  again?  '  said  the  old 
man.  '  I  wish  you  'd  send  me  back  my  poor  Maxime.' 
He  had  quite  forgotten  the  death  of  the  poor  princess 
Olivia,  and  the  prince,  looking  very  dark  indeed,  passed 
away. 

"  And  now,  "  said  Madame  de  Liliengarten,  "  I  have 
only  one  more  gloomy  story  to  relate  to  you  —  the  death 
of  the  Princess  Olivia.  It  is  even  more  horrible  than  the 
tale  I  have  just  told  you."  With  which  preface  the  old 
lady  resumed  her  narrative. 

"  The  kind,  weak  princess's  fate  was  hastened,  if  not 
occasioned  by  the  cowardice  of  Magny.  He  found 
means  to  communicate  with  her  from  his  prison,  and  her 
highness,  who  was  not  in  open  disgrace  yet  (for  the  duke, 
out  of  regard  to  the  family,  persisted  in  charging  Magny 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  225 

with  only  robbery),  made  the  most  desperate  efforts  to 
relieve  him,  and  to  bribe  the  jailers  to  effect  his  escape. 
She  was  so  wild  that  she  lost  all  patience  and  prudence 
in  the  conduct  of  any  schemes  she  may  have  had  for 
Magny's  liberation  ;  for  her  husband  was  inexorable,  and 
caused  the  chevalier's  prison  to  be  too  strictly  guarded  for 
escape  to  be  possible.  She  offered  the  state  jewels  in 
pawn  to  the  court  banker ;  who  of  course  was  obliged 
to  dechne  the  transaction.  She  fell  down  on  her 
knees,  it  is  said,  to  Geldern,  the  Police  Minister,  and 
offered  him  Heaven  knows  what  as  a  bribe.  Finally, 
she  came  screaming  to  my  poor  dear  duke,  who,  with  his 
age,  diseases,  and  easy  habits,  was  quite  unfit  for  scenes  of 
so  violent  a  nature  ;  and  who,  in  consequence  of  the  ex- 
citement created  in  his  august  bosom  by  frantic  violence 
and  grief,  had  a  fit  in  which  I  very  nigh  lost  him.  That  his 
dear  life  was  brought  to  an  untimely  end  by  these  trans- 
actions I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt ;  for  the  Strasbourg 
pie,  of  which  they  said  he  died,  never,  I  am  sure,  could 
have  injured  him,  but  for  the  injury  which  his  dear  gentle 
heart  received  from  the  unusual  occurrences  in  which  he 
was  forced  to  take  a  share. 

*'  All  her  highness's  movements  were  carefully,  though 
not  ostensibly,  watched  by  her  husband.  Prince  Victor ; 
who  waiting  upon  his  august  father,  sternly  signified  to 
him  that  if  his  highness  {my  duke)  should  dare  to  aid 
the  princess  in  her  efforts  to  release  Magny,  he.  Prince 
Victor,  would  publicly  accuse  the  princess  and  her 
paramour  of  high  treason,  and  take  measures  with  the 
Diet  for  removing  his  father  from  the  throne,  as  incapac- 
itated to  reign.  Hence  interposition  on  our  part  was 
vain,  and  Magny  was  left  to  his  fate. 

"  It  came,  as  you  are  aware,  very  suddenly.  Gel- 
dern, Police  Minister,  Hengst,  Master  of  the  Horse,  and 

IS 


2  26  Greatest  Short  Stories 

the  Colonel  of  the  Prince's  guard,  waited  upon  the 
young  man  in  his  prison  two  days  after  his  grandfather 
had  visited  him  there  and  left  behind  him  the  phial  of 
poison  which  the  criminal  had  not  the  courage  to  use. 
And  Geldern  signified  to  the  young  man  that  unless  he 
took  of  his  own  accord  the  laurel-water  provided  by  the 
elder  Magny,  more  violent  means  of  death  would  be 
instantly  employed  upon  him,  and  that  a  file  of  grena- 
diers was  in  waiting  in  the  courtyard  to  despatch  him. 
Seeing  this,  Magny,  with  the  most  dreadful  self-abase- 
ment, after  dragging  himself  round  the  room  on  his 
knees  from  one  officer  to  another,  weeping  and  scream- 
ing with  terror,  at  last  desperately  drank  off  the  potion, 
and  was  a  corpse  in  a  few  minutes.  Thus  ended  this 
wretched  young  man. 

"  His  death  was  made  public  in  the  *  Court  Gazette  ' 
two  days  after,  the  paragraph  stating  that  Monsieur  de 

M ,  struck  with  remorse  for  having  attempted  the 

murder  of  the  Jew,  had  put  himself  to  death  by  poison 
in  prison  ;  and  a  warning  was  added  to  all  young  noble- 
men of  the  duchy  to  avoid  the  dreadful  sin  of  gambling, 
which  had  been  the  cause  of  the  young  man's  ruin,  and 
had  brought  upon  the  gray  hairs  of  one  of  the  noblest 
and  most  honorable  of  the  servants  of  the  duke  irre- 
trievable sorrow. 

"  The  funeral  was  conducted  with  decent  privacy,  the 
General  de  Magny  attending  it.  The  carriage  of  the  two 
dukes  and  all  the  first  people  of  the  court  made  their 
calls  upon  the  general  afterwards.  He  attended  parade 
as  usual  the  next  day  on  the  Arsenal-Place,  and  Duke 
Victor,  who  had  been  inspecting  the  building,  came  out 
of  it  leaning  on  the  brave  old  warrior's  arm.  He  was 
particularly  gracious  to  the  old  man,  and  told  his 
officers  the  oft- repeated  story  how  at  Rosbach,  when  the 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  227 

X contingent  served  with  the  troops  of  the  unlucky 

Soubise,  the  general  had  thrown  himself  in  the  way  of  a 
French  dragoon  who  was  pressing  hard  upon  his  high- 
ness in  the  rout,  had  received  the  blow  intended  for  his 
master,  and  killed  the  assailant.  And  he  alluded  to  the 
family  motto  of  '  Magny  sans  tache,'  and  said  '  It  had 
been  always  so  with  his  gallant  friend  and  tutor  in 
arms.'  This  speech  affected  all  present  very  much ; 
with  the  exception  of  the  old  general,  who  only  bowed 
and  did  not  speak  :  but  when  he  went  home  he  was 
heard  muttering  '  Magny  sans  tache,  Magny  sans  tache  !  ' 
and  was  attacked  with  paralysis  that  night,  from  which 
he  never  more  than  partially  recovered. 

"The  news  of  Maxime's  death  had  somehow  been 
kept  from  the  princess  until  now :  a  *  Gazette  '  even 
being  printed  without  the  paragraph  containing  the 
account  of  his  suicide  ;  but  it  was  at  length,  I  know  not 
how,  made  known  to  her.  And  when  she  heard  it,  her 
ladies  tell  me,  she  screamed  and  fell,  as  if  struck  dead ; 
then  sat  up  wildly  and  raved  like  a  madwoman,  and  was 
then  carried  to  her  bed,  where  her  physician  attended 
her,  and  where  she  lay  of  a  brain-fever.  All  this  while 
the  prince  used  to  send  to  make  inquiries  concerning 
l>er ;  and  from  his  giving  orders  that  his  Castle  of 
Schlangenfels  should  be  prepared  and  furnished,  I  make 
no  doubt  it  was  his  intention  to  send  her  into  confine- 
ment thither  :  as  had  been  done  with  the  unhappy  sister 
of  his  Britannic  Majesty  at  Zell. 

"  She  sent  repeatedly  to  demand  an  interview  with 
his  highness ;  which  the  latter  declined,  saying  that  he 
would  communicate  with  her  highness  when  her  health 
was  sufficiently  recovered.  To  one  of  her  passionate 
letters  he  sent  back  for  reply  a  packet,  which,  when 
opened,   was    found    to  contain  the  emerald  that    had 


2  28  Greatest  Short  Stories 

been  the  cause  round  which  all  this  dark  intrigue 
moved. 

"  Her  highness  at  this  time  became  quite  frantic  ; 
vowed  in  the  presence  of  all  her  ladies  that  one  lock  of 
her  darling  Maxime's  hair  was  more  precious  to  her 
than  all  the  jewels  in  the  world  ;  rang  for  her  carriage, 
and  said  she  would  go  and  kiss  his  tomb  ;  proclaimed 
the  murdered  martyr's  innocence,  and  called  down  the 
punishment  of  Heaven,  the  wrath  of  her  family,  upon  his 
assassin.  The  prince,  on  hearing  these  speeches  (they 
were  all,  of  course,  regularly  brought  to  him),  is  said  to 
have  given  one  of  his  dreadful  looks  (which  I  remem- 
ber now),  and  to  have  said,  'This  cannot  last  much 
longer.' 

"  All  that  day  and  the  next  the  Princess  Olivia  passed 
in  dictating  the  most  passionate  letters  to  the  prince  her 
father,  to  the  Kings  of  France,  Naples,  and  Spain,  her 
kinsmen,  and  to  all  other  branches  of  her  family,  calling 
upon  them  in  the  most  incoherent  terms  to  protect  her 
against  the  butcher  and  assassin  her  husband,  assailing 
his  person  in  the  maddest  terms  of  reproach,  and  at  the 
same  time  confessing  her  love  for  the  murdered  Magny. 
It  was  in  vain  that  those  ladies  who  were  faithful  to  her 
pointed  out  to  her  the  inutility  of  these  letters,  the 
dangerous  folly  of  the  confessions  which  they  made ; 
she  insisted  upon  writing  them,  and  used  to  give  them 
to  her  second  robe-woman,  a  Frenchwoman  (her  high- 
ness always  affectioned  persons  of  that  nation)  who  had 
the  key  of  her  cassette,  and  carried  every  one  of  these 
epistles  to  Geldern. 

"  With  the  exception  that  no  public  receptions  were 
held,  the  ceremony  of  the  princess's  establishment  went 
on  as  before.  Her  ladies  were  allowed  to  wait  upon  her 
and  perform  their  usual  duties  about  her  person.     The 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  229 

only  men  admitted  were,  however,  her  servants,  her 
physician  and  chaplain ;  and  one  day  when  she  wished 
to  go  into  the  garden,  a  heyduc,  who  kept  the  door, 
intimated  to  her  highness  that  the  prince's  orders  were 
that  she  should  keep  her  apartments. 

"  They  abut,  as  you  remember,  upon  the  landing  of 

the  marble   staircase   of  Schloss  X ;   the  entrance. 

to  Prince  Victor's  suite  of  rooms  being  opposite  the 
princess's  on  the  same  landing.  This  space  is  large, 
filled  with  sofas  and  benches,  and  the  gentlemen  and 
officers  who  waited  upon  the  duke  used  to  make  a  sort 
of  ante-chamber  of  the  landing-place,  and  pay  their 
court  to  his  highness  there,  as  he  passed  out,  at  eleven* 
o'clock,  to  parade.  At  such  a  time,  the  heyducs  within 
the  princess's  suite  of  rooms  used  to  turn  out  with  their 
halberts  and  present  to  Prince  Victor  —  the  same  cere- 
mony being  performed  on  his  own  side,  when  pages 
came  out  and  announced  the  approach  of  his  highness. 
The  pages  used  to  come  out  and  say,  '  The  prince, 
gentlemen  !  '  and  the  drums  beat  in  the  hall,  and  the 
gentlemen  rose,  who  were  waiting  on  the  benches  that 
ran  along  the  balustrade. 

"  As  if  fate  impelled  her  to  her  death,  one  day  the 
princess,  as  her  guards  turned  out,  and  she  was  aware 
that  the  prince  was  standing,  as  was  his  wont,  on  the 
landing,  conversing  with  his  gentlemen  (in  the  old  days 
he  used  to  cross  to  the  princess's  apartment  and  kiss 
her  hand)  —  the  princess,  who  had  been  anxious  all  the 
morning,  complaining  of  heat,  insisting  that  all  the  doors 
of  the  apartments  should  be  left  open  ;  and  giving  tokens 
of  an  insanity  which  T  think  was  now  evident,  rushed 
wildly  at  the  doors  when  the  guards  passed  out,  flung 
them  open,  and  before  a  word  could  be  said,  or  her 
ladies  could  follow  her,  was  in  presence  of  Duke  Victor, 


230  Greatest  Short  Stories 

who  was  talking  as  usual  on  the  landing  :  placing  herself 
between  him  and  the  stair,  she  began  apostrophizing  him 
with  frantic  vehemence  :  — 

"  *  Take  notice,  gentlemen  !  '  she  screamed  out,  '  that 
this  man  is  a  murderer  and  a  liar ;  that  he  lays  plots  for 
honorable  gentlemen,  and  kills  them  in  prison  !  Take 
notice,  that  I  too  am  in  prison,  and  fear  the  same  fate  : 
the  same  butcher  who  killed  Maxime  de  Magny,  may, 
any  night,  put  the  knife  to  my  throat.  I  appeal  to  you, 
and  to  all  the  kings  of  Europe,  my  royal  kinsmen.  I  de- 
mand to  be  set  free  from  this  tyrant  and  villain,  this  liar 
and  traitor  !  I  adjure  you  all,  as  gentlemen  of  honor,  to 
^  carry  these  letters  to  my  relatives,  and  say  from  whom 
you  had  them  !  '  and  with  this  the  unhappy  lady  began 
scattering  letters  about  the  astonished  crowd. 

"  '  Let  no  man  stoop  ! '  cried  the  prince,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder.  '  Madame  de  Gleim,  you  should  have  watched 
your  patient  better.  Call  the  princess's  physicians  :  her 
highness's  brain  is  affected.  Gentlemen,  have  the  good- 
ness to  retire.'  And  the  prince  stood  on  the  landing  as 
the  gentlemen  went  down  the  stairs,  saying  fiercely  to 
the  guard.  *  Soldier,  if  she  moves,  strike  with  your 
halbert  ! '  on  which  the  man  brought  the  point  of  his 
weapon  to  the  princess's  breast ;  and  the  lady,  frightened, 
shrank  back  and  reentered  her  apartments.  '  Now, 
Monsieur  de  Weissenborn,'  said  the  prince,  '  pick  up  all 
those  papers ;  '  and  the  prince  went  into  his  own  apart- 
ments, preceded  by  his  pages,  and  never  quitted  them 
until  he  had  seen  every  one  of  the  papers  burned. 

"  The  next  day  the  '  Court  Gazette  '  contained  a 
bulletin  signed  by  the  three  physicians,  stating  that  *  Her 
highness  the  hereditary  princess  labored  under  inflam- 
mation of  the  brain,  and  had  passed  a  restless  and  dis- 
turbed night.'    Similar  notices  were  issued  day  after  day. 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  231 

The  services  of  all  her  ladies,  except  two,  were  dispensed 
with.  Guards  were  placed  within  and  without  her  doors  ; 
her  windows  were  secured,  so  that  escape  from  them 
was  impossible  :  and  you  know  what  took  place  ten  days 
after.  The  church-bells  were  ringing  all  night,  and  the 
prayers  of  the  faithful  asked  for  a  person  in  extremis. 
A  *  Gazette '  appeared  in  the  morning,  edged  with  black, 
and  stating  that  the  high  and  mighty  Princess  Olivia 
Maria    Ferdinanda,    consort    of    His    Serene    Highness 

Victor  Louis  Emanuel,  Hereditary  Prince  of  X ,  had 

died  in  the  evening  of  the  24th  of  January,  1769. 

"  But  do  you  know  how^o.  died,  sir?  That,  too,  is  a 
mystery.  Weissenborn,  the  page,  was  concerned  in 
this  dark  tragedy  ;  and  the  secret  was  so  dreadful,  that 
never,  believe  me,  till  Prince  Victor's  death  did  I  reveal 
it. 

"  After  the  fatal  esclandre  which  the  princess  had 
made,  the  prince  sent  for  Weissenborn,  and  binding  him 
by  the  most  solemn  adjuration  to  secrecy  (he  only 
broke  it  to  his  wife  many  years  after  :  indeed  there  is  no 
secret  in  the  world  that  women  cannot  know  if  they 
will),  despatched  him  on  the  following  mysterious 
commission. 

" '  There  lives,'  said  his  highness,  *  on  the  Kehl  side 
of  the  river,  opposite  to  Strasbourg,  a  man  whose 
residence  you  will  easily  find  out  from  his  name,  which 
is  Monsieur  de  Strasbourg.  You  will  make  your  in- 
quiries concerning  him  quietly,  and  without  occasioning 
any  remark ;  perhaps  you  had  better  go  into  Strasbourg 
for  the  purpose,  where  the  person  is  quite  well  known. 
You  will  take  with  you  any  comrade  on  whom  you  can 
perfectly  rely :  the  lives  of  both,  remember,  depend  on 
your  secrecy.  You  will  find  out  some  period  when 
Monsieur  de  Strasbourg  is  alone,  or  only  in  company  of 


2^2 


Greatest  Short  Stories 


the  domestic  who  lives  with  him  (I  myself  visited  the 
man  by  accident  on  my  return  from  Paris  five  years 
since,  and  hence  am  induced  to  send  for  him  now,  in 
my  present  emergency).  You  will  have  your  carriage 
waiting  at  his  door  at  night ;  and  you  and  your  comrade 
will  enter  his  house  masked  ;  and  present  him  with  a 
purse  of  a  hundred  louis  ;  promising  him  double  that 
sum  on  his  return  from  his  expedition.  If  he  refuse, 
you  must  use  force  and  bring  him  ;  menacing  him  with 
instant  death  should  he  decline  to  follow  you.  You  will 
place  him  in  the  carriage  with  the  blinds  drawn,  one  or 
other  of  you  never  losing  sight  of  him  the  whole  way, 
and  threatening  him  with  death  if  he  discover  himself  or 
cry  out.  You  will  lodge  him  in  the  old  Tower  here, 
where  a  room  shall  be  prepared  for  him ;  and  his  work 
being  done,  you  will  restore  him  to  his  home  in  the 
same  speed  and  secrecy  with  which  you  brought  him 
from  it.' 

"  Such  were  the  mysterious  orders  Prince  Victor  gave 
his  page  ;  and  Weissenborn,  selecting  for  his  comrade  in 
the  expedition  Lieutenant  Bartenstein,  set  out  on  his 
strange  journey. 

"  All  this  while  the  palace  was  hushed,  as  if  in  mourn- 
ing ;  the  bulletins  in  the  '  Court  Gazette '  appeared, 
announcing  the  continuance  of  the  princess's  malady ; 
and  though  she '  had  but  few  attendants,  strange  and 
circumstantial  stories  were  told  regarding  the  progress 
of  her  complaint.  She  was  quite  wild.  She  had  tried 
to  kill  herself.  She  had  fancied  herself  to  be  I  don't 
know  how  many  different  characters.  Expresses  were 
sent  to  her  family  informing  them  of  her  state,  and 
couriers  despatched /z^(^/;V/)'  to  Vienna  and  Paris  to  pro- 
cure the  attendance  of  physicians  skilled  in  treating 
diseases  of  the  brain.     That  pretended  anxiety  was  all  a 


1 


A  Princess's  Tragedy  233 

feint :  it  was  never  intended  that  the  princess  should 
recover. 

"  The  day  on  which  Weissenborn  and  Bartenstein 
returned  from  their  expedition,  it  was  announced  that 
her  highness  the  princess  was  much  worse  ;  that  night 
the  report  through  the  town  was  that  she  was  at  the 
agony :  and  that  night  the  unfortunate  creature  was 
endeavoring  to  make  her  escape. 

"  She  had  unlimited  confidence  in  the  French  cham- 
ber-woman who  attended  her,  and  between  her  and  this 
woman  the  plan  of  escape  was  arranged.  The  princess 
took  her  jewels  in  a  casket ;  a  private  door,  opening 
from  one  of  her  rooms  and  leading  into  the  outer  gate, 
it  was  said,  of  the  palace,  was  discovered  for  her :  and  a 
letter  was  brought  to  her,  purporting  to  be  from  the 
duke  her  father-in-law,  and  stating  that  a  carriage  and 

horses  had  been  provided,  and  would  take  her  to  B : 

the  territory  where  she  might  communicate  with  her 
family  and  be  safe. 

"The  unhappy  lady,  confiding  in  her  guardian,  set 
out  on  the  expedition.  The  passages  wound  through 
the  walls  of  the  modern  part  of  the  palace  and  abutted 
in  effect  at  the  old  Owl  Tower,  as  it  was  called,  on  the 
outer  wall :  the  tower  was  pulled  down  afterwards,  and 
for  good  reason. 

"  At  a  certain  place  the  candle,  which  the  chamber- 
woman  was  carrying,  went  out ;  and  the  princess  would 
have  screamed  with  terror,  but  her  hand  was  seized,  and 
a  voice  cried,  *  Hush  !  '  The  next  minute  a  man  in  a 
mask  (it  was  the  duke  himself)  rushed  forward,  gagged 
her  with  a  handkerchief,  her  hands  and  legs  were  bound, 
and  she  was  carried  swooning  with  terror  into  a  vaulted 
room,  where  she  was  placed  by  a  person  there  waiting, 
and   tied  in  an  arrn-chair.     The   same  mask   who    had 


234  Greatest  Short  Stories 

gagged  her,  came  and  bared  her  neck  and  said,  '  It  had 
best  be  done  now  she  has  fainted.' 

"  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  as  well ;  for  though  she 
recovered  from  her  swoon,  and  her  confessor,  who  was 
present,  came  forward  and  endeavored  to  prepare  her 
for  the  awful  deed  which  was  about  to  be  done  upon 
her,  and  for  the  state  into  wliich  she  was  about  to  enter, 
when  she  came  to  herself  it  was  only  to  scream  like  a 
maniac,  to  curse  the  duke  as  a  butcher  and  tyrant,  and 
to  call  upon  Magny,  her  dear  Magny. 

"  At  this  the  duke  said,  quite  calmly,  *  May  God  have 
mercy  on  her  sinful  soul  ! '  He,  the  confessor,  and 
Geldem,  who  were  present,  went  down  on  their  knees  ; 
and,  as  his  highness  dropped  his  handkerchief,  Weissen- 
born  fell  down  in  a  fainting  fit ;  while  Monsieur  de 
Strasbourg,  taking  the  back  hair  in  his  hand,  separated 
the  shrieking  head  of  Olivia  from  the  miserable,  sinful 
body.     May  Heaven  have  mercy  upon  her  soul !  " 

This  was  the  story  told  by  Madame  de  Liliengarten 


VIII 
THE    GOLD-BUG 


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THE    GOLD-BUG 

By   EDGAR   ALLAN    POE 

INTRODUCTORY 
PLOT    CONSTRUCTION 

IT  would  be  impossible  to  say  that  any  of  the 
short  stories  so  far  examined  show  the  slight- 
est progress  in  the  special  art  of  short  story 
construction.  In  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  we  found 
perfection  in  descriptive  character-drawing;  in  "  A 
Passion  in  the  Desert,"  atmosphere  ;  in  "  A  Child's 
Dream  of  a  Star,"  sentiment ;  in  "  A  Princess's 
Tragedy,"  the  power  of  suggestiveness  inherent  in 
polished  restraint :  but  it  would  be  folly  to  pre- 
tend that  any  one  of  these  stories  is  even  equal 
in  interest,  as  a  story,  to  the  two  first  presented, 
which  were  written  more  than  six  hundred  years 
ago. 

In  Poe,  however,  we  find  a  master  of  the  short 
story  who  towers  above  even  the  anonymous 
author  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  and  above  Boc- 
caccio. "The  Gold-Bug"  is  as  good  a  story  as 
"  Aladdin,"  and  it  wears  better  because  it  is  so 
much  more  finely  wrought.  It  is  just  as  romantic 
as  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  yet  involves  no  assump- 
tion of  the  obviously  absurd.     Moreover,  Poe  in- 


238  Greatest  Short  Stories 

vented  it — created  it,  —  while  all  the  stories  we 
have  yet  examined  are  based  on  plots  (so  far  as 
they  had  plots  of  any  value)  which  came  to  the 
authors  ready  made.  The  author  was  only  the 
recorder  or  the  '*  dresser  up."  But  Poe  made  his 
story,  and  he  made  a  good  one ;  and  since  he 
showed  the  world  how  to  do  it,  the  best  stories 
have  been   invented,  not  discovered. 

Not  only  did  Poe  consciously  invent  the  stories 
he  wrote,  but  in  his  "  Philosophy  of  Composition" 
he  told  us  something  of  the  way  he  went  about 
doing  it.  Of  course  not  all  that  he  says  there  can 
be  taken  seriously,  but  much  may  be  ;  and  what  he 
says  of  the  construction  of  "  The  Raven  "  applies 
equally  well,  if  not  better,  to  the  construction  of  a 
short  story. 

The  first  thing  to  be  noted  is  that  the  writer 
starts  with  his  conclusion.  If  he  is  to  write  a 
detective  story,  he  begins  in  his  mind  with  the 
solution  of  the  mystery,  and  from  that  works  back 
to  the  mystery.  Once  the  plot  is  worked  out,  the 
author  leads  the  reader  from  the  mystery  to  the 
solution,  and  since  he  has  so  arranged  it,  every- 
thing works  out  to  a  nicety,  to  the  wonder  and 
amazement  of  the  reader,  and  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  author. 

Second,  in  developing  the  details  of  a  story, 
every  act  must  have  its  adequate  motive,  and 
every  fact  its  just  reason.  It  is  clear,  therefore, 
that  the  story-writer  must  have  a  far-reaching 
knowledge  of  the   springs   of  human   action   and 


The  Gold-Bug  239 

the  secrets  of  human  life,  for  in  his  story  he  plays 
the  "  god  in  the  machine,"  and  unless  he  does  his 
work  well,  the  easy  comparison  that  may  be  made 
with  the  real  thing  is  so  much  to  his  disadvantage 
that  he  is  compelled  to  retire  from  the  field  in 
disgrace. 

The  problem  in  "The  Gold-Bug"  is  purely  in- 
tellectual. Sentiment  and  descriptive  character- 
drawing  are  absent,  and  we  detect  no  special 
atmosphere.  Poe  concentrated  his  attention  on 
the  problem  of  constructing  his  story;  but  he 
shows  that  he  understood  something  of  the  larger 
art,  for  in  another  class  of  his  tales  he  created  per- 
fectly the  atmosphere  of  horror,  and  did  it  so  well 
that  no  one  since  has  surpassed  him.  He  was  also 
a  poet,  and  his  prose  and  his  poetry  find  them- 
selves curiously  linked  in  his  work.  We  have  al- 
ready noted  that  he  was  a  critic  as  well  as  a  poet 
and  a  story  writer,  and  told  us  much  of  the  phil- 
osophy of  his  literary  discoveries. 

Poe  was  not  accepted  by  his  contemporaries  in 
America,  partly  because  he  was  constitutionally 
unfortunate  and  was  unjustly  maligned  even  after 
his  death,  partly  because  the  discoveries  of  genius 
cannot  be  fully  comprehended  by  the  generation 
which  gives  them  birth. 

Poe's  stories  were  translated  into  excellent 
French  by  Charles  Baudelaire,  an  intense  ad- 
mirer of  the  American  inventor;  and  in  these 
translations  the  stories  at  once  produced  a  marked 
effect  on  the  French  art,  for  it  was  much  better 


240  Greatest  Sliort  Stories 

prepared  for  Poe's  discoveries  than  the  English. 
A  crop  of  conscious  short  story  artists  imme- 
diately sprung  up,  who  absorbed  and  greatly  im- 
proved Poe's  principles.  These  French  writers  in 
turn  influenced  later  English  and  American  writers, 
who  in  this  roundabout  way  came  to  know  and 
appreciate  Poe.  So,  although  Poe's  own  stories 
are  not  sufficiently  varied  and  profound  to  be 
great  literature  in  themselves,  they  are  the  crude 
models  of  nearly  all  the  best  that  was  to  follow, 
and  in  justice  we  must  consider  Poe  the  father 
of  the  modern  art  of  short  story  writing. 


THE   GOLD-BUG 

What  ho !  what  ho  !  this  fellow  is  dancing  mad  I 
He  hath  been  bitten  by  the  Tarantula. 

All  in  the  Wrong. 

MANY  years  ago  I  contracted  an  intimacy  with  a 
Mr.  William  Legrand.  He  was  of  an  ancient 
Huguen'ot  family,  and  had  once  been  wealthy  ;  but  a 
series  of  misfortunes  had  reduced  him  to  want.  To 
avoid  the  mortification  consequent  upon  his  disasters,  he 
left  New  Orleans,  the  city  of  his  forefathers,  and  took 
up  his  residence  at  Sullivan's  Island,  near  Charleston, 
South  Carolina. 

This  island  is  a  very  singular  one.  It  consists  of  little 
else  than  the  sea-sand,  and  is  about  three  miles  long. 
Its  breadth  at  no  point  exceeds  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  It 
is  separated  from  the  mainland  by  a  scarcely  perceptible 
creek  oozing  its  way  through  a  wilderness  of  reeds  and 
slime,  a  favorite  resort  of  the  marsh-hen.     The  vegeta- 


The  Gold-Bug  241 

tion,  as  might  be  supposed,  is  scant,  or  at  least  dwarfish. 
No  trees  of  any  magnitude  are  to  be  seen.  Near  the 
western  extremity,  where  Fort  Moultrie  stands,  and 
where  are  some  miserable  frame  buildings,  tenanted, 
during  summer,  by  the  fugitives  from  Charleston  dust 
and  fever,  may  be  found,  indeed,  the  bristly  palmetto ; 
but  the  whole  island,  with  the  exception  of  this  western 
point,  and  a  line  of  hard,  white  beach  on  the  sea-coast, 
is  covered  with  a  dense  undergrowth  of  the  sweet  myrtle, 
so  much  prized  by  the  horticulturists  of  England.  The 
shrub  here  often  attains  the  height  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
feet,  and  forms  an  almost  impenetrable  coppice,  burden- 
ing the  air  with  its  fragrance. 

In  the  inmost  recesses  of  this  coppice,  not  far  from 
the  eastern  or  more  remote  end  of  the  island,  Legrand 
had  built  himself  a  small  hut,  which  he  occupied  when  I 
first,  by  mere  accident,  made  his  acquaintance.  This 
soon  ripened  into  friendship,  —  for  there  was  much  in 
the  recluse  to  excite  interest  and  esteem.  I  found  him 
well  educated,  with  unusual  powers  of  mind,  but  infected 
with  misanthropy,  and  subject  to  perverse  moods  of  alter- 
nate enthusiasm  and  melancholy.  He  had  with  him 
many  books,  but  rarely  employed  them.  His  chief 
amusements  were  gunning  and  fishing,  or  sauntering 
along  the  beach  and  through  the  myrtles,  in  quest  of 
shells  or  entomological  specimens  ;  —  his  collection  of 
the  latter  might  have  been  envied  by  a  Swammerdam. 
In  these  excursions  he  was  usually  accompanied  by  an 
old  negro,  called  Jupiter,  who  had  been  manumitted 
before  the  reverses  of  the  family,  but  who  could  be 
induced,  neither  by  threats  nor  by  promises,  to  abandon 
what  he  considered  his  right  of  attendance  upon  the 
footsteps  of  his  young  "  Massa  Will."  It  is  not  improba- 
ble that  the  relatives  of  Legrand,  conceiving  him  to  be 

16 


'M 


2^42  Greatest  Short  Stories 

;  somewhat  unsettled  in  intellect,  had  contrived  to  instil 
'  tliis  obstinacy  into  Jupiter,  with  a  view  to  the  supervision 
and  guardianship  of  the  wanderer. 

The  winters  in  the  latitude  of  Sullivan's  Island  are 
seldom  very  severe,  and  in  the  fall  of  the  year  it  is  a  rare 
event  indeed  when  a  fire  is  considered  necessary.  About 
the  middle  of  October,  18 — ,  there  occurred,  however, 
a  day  of  remarkable  chilliness.  Just  before  sunset  I 
scrambled  my  way  through  the  evergreens  to  the  hut  of 
my  friend,  whom  I  had  not  visited  for  several  weeks,  — 
my  residence  being,  at  that  time,  in  Charleston,  a  dis- 
tance of  nine  miles  from  the  island,  while  the  facilities 
of  passage  and  re-passage  were  very  far  behind  those  of 
the  present  day.  Upon  reaching  the  hut  I  rapped,  as 
was  my  custom,  and  getting  no  reply,  sought  for  the  key 
where  I  knew  it  was  secreted,  unlocked  the  door,  and 
went  in.  A  fine  fire  was  blazing  upon  the  hearth.  It 
was  a  novelty,  and  by  no  means  an  ungrateful  one.  I 
threw  off  an  overcoat,  took  an  arm-chair  by  the  crackling 
logs,  and  awaited  patiently  the  arrival  of  my  hosts. 

Soon  after  dark  they  arrived,  and  gave  me  a  most  cor- 
dial welcome.  Jupiter,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  bustled 
about  to  prepare  some  marsh-hens  for  supper.  Legrand 
was  in  one  of  his  fits  —  how  else  shall  I  term  them?  — 
of  enthusiasm.  He  had  found  an  unknown  bivalve, 
forming  a  new  genus,  and,  more  than  this,  he  had  hunted 
down  and  secured,  with  Jupiter's  assistance,  a  scarabaus 
which  he  believed  to  be  totally  new,  but  in  respect  to 
which  he  wished  to  have  my  opinion  on  the  morrow. 

"  And  why  not  to-night?  "  I  asked,  rubbing  my  hands 
over  the  blaze,  and  wishing  the  whole  tribe  oi  scarab csi 
at  the  devil. 

"  Ah,  if  I  had  only  known  you  were  here  !  "  said 
Legrand,  "  but  it  '3  so  long  since  I  saw  you ;  and  how 


The  Gold-Bug  243 

could  I  foresee  that  you  would  pay  me  a  visit  this  very 
night  of  all  others?  As  I  was  coming  home  I  met  Lieu- 
tenant G ,  from  the  fort,  and,  very  foolishly,  I  lent 

him  the  bug ;  so  it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  see  it 
until  the  morning.  Stay  here  to-night,  and  I  will  send 
Jup  down  for  it  at  sunrise.  It  is  the  loveliest  thing  in 
creation  !  " 

"  What  ?  — sunrise  ?  " 

"  Nonsense  !  no  !  —  the  bug.  It  is  of  a  brilliant  gold 
^olor,  —  about  the  size  of  a  large  hickory-nut,  — with  two 
jet-black  spots  near  one  extremity  of  the  back,  and  an- 
other, somewhat  longer,  at  the  other.  The  antenna 
are " 

"  Dey  ain't  no  tin  in  him,  Massa  Will,  I  keep  a  tellin' 
on  you,"  here  interrupted  Jupiter;  "  de  bug  is  a  goole- 
bug,  solid,  ebery  bit  of  him,  inside  and  all,  sep  him  wing, 
—  neber  feel  half  so  hebby  a  bug  in  my  life." 

"  Well,  suppose  it  is,  Jup,"  replied  Legrand,  some- 
what more  earnestly,  it  seemed  to  me,  than  the  case 
demanded,  "  is  that  any  reason  for  your  letting  the  birds 
burn?  The  color  "  —  here  he  turned  to  me  —  "  is  really 
almost  enough  to  warrant  Jupiter's  idea.  You  never  saw 
a  more  brilliant  metallic  lustre  than  the  scales  emit,  — 
but  of  this  you  cannot  judge  till  to-morrow.  In  the 
meantime  I  can  give  you  some  idea  of  the  shape."  Say- 
ing this,  he  seated  himself  at  a  small  table,  on  which 
were  a  pen  and  ink,  but  no  paper.  He  looked  for  some 
in  a  drawer,  but  found  none. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  he  at  length,  "  this  will  answer  "  ; 
and  he  drew  from  his  waistcoat- pocket  a  scrap  of  what  I 
took  to  be  very  dirty  foolscap,  and  made  upon  it  a  rough 
drawing  with  the  pen.  While  he  did  this,  I  retained  my 
seat  by  the  fire,  for  I  was  still  chilly.  When  the  design 
was  complete,  he  handed  it  to  me  without  rising.     As 


244  Greatest  Short  Stories 

I  received  it,  a  loud  growl  was  heard,  succeeded  by 
a  scraiching  at  the  door.  Jupiter  opened  it,  and  a 
large  Newfoundland,  belonging  to  Legrand,  rushed  in, 
leaped  upon  my  shoulders,  and  loaded  me  with  ca- 
resses ;  for  I  had  shown  him  much  attention  during 
previous  visits.  When  his  gambols  were  over,  I 
looked  at  the  paper,  and,  to  speak  the  truth,  found 
myself  not  a  little  puzzled  at  what  my  friend  had 
depicted. 

"  Well !  "  I  said,  after  contemplating  it  for  some 
minutes,  "  this  is  a  strange  scarabceus,  I  must  confess  : 
new  to  me  :  never  saw  anything  like  it  before,  —  unless 
it  was  a  skull,  or  a  death's-head,  —  which  it  more  nearly 
resembles  than  anything  else  that  has  come  under  my 
observation." 

"  A  death's-head  !  "  echoed  Legrand —  "  Oh  —  yes  — 
well,  it  has  something  of  that  appearance  upon  paper, 
no  doubt.  The  two  upper  black  spots  look  like  eyes, 
eh?  and  the  longer  one  at  the  bottom  like  a  mouth, — 
and  then  the  shape  of  the  whole  is  oval." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  I  ;  "  but,  Legrand,  I  fear  you  are 
no  artist.  I  must  wait  until  I  see  the  beetle  itself,  if  I 
am  to  form  any  idea  of  its  personal  appearance." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  a  little  nettled,  "  I 
draw  tolerably,  —  should  do  it  at  least,  —  have  had  good 
masters,  and  flatter  myself  that  I  am  not  quite  a  block- 
head." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  joking,  then,"  said  I ; 
"  this  is  a  very  passable  skull,  —  indeed,  I  may  say  that 
it  is  a  very  ^jcr(f//^«^skull,  according  to  the  vulgar  notions 
about  such  specimens  of  physiology,  —  and  your  scara- 
bceus  must  be  the  queerest  scarabceus  in  the  world  if 
it  resembles  it.  Why,  we  may  get  up  a  very  thrilling 
bit  of  superstition  upon  this  hint.     I  presume  you  will 


The  Gold- Bug  245 

call  the  bug  scarabceus  caput  hotfiifiis,  or  something  of 
that  kind,  —  there  are  many  similar  titles  in  the  Natural 
Histories.     But  where  are  the  ajiiefitice  you  spoke  of?" 

"The  antennce/''  said  Legrand,  who  seemed  to  be 
getting  unaccountably  warm  upon  the  subject ;  "  I  am 
sure  you  must  see  the  antenncB.  I  made  them  as  dis- 
tinct as  they  are  in  the  original  insect,  and  I  presume 
that  is  sufficient." 

"  Well,  well,"  I  said,  "  perhaps  you  have,  —  still  I 
don't  see  them  "  ;  and  I  handed  him  the  paper  without 
additional  remark,  not  wishing  to  ruffle  his  temper.  But 
I  was  much  surprised  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken  ;  his 
ill-humor  puzzled  me ;  and,  as  for  the  drawing  of  the 
beetle,  there  were  positively  no  antennce  visible,  and  the 
whole  did  bear  a  very  close  resemblance  to  the  ordinary 
cuts  of  a  death's-head. 

He  received  the  paper  very  peevishly,  and  was  about 
to  crumple  it,  apparently  to  throw  it  in  the  fire,  when  a 
casual  glance  at  the  design  seemed  suddenly  to  rivet  his 
attention.  In  an  instant  his  face  grew  violently  red,  — 
in  another  as  excessively  pale.  For  some  minutes,  he 
continued  to  scrutinize  the  drawing  minutely  where  he 
sat.  At  length  he  arose,  took  a  candle  from  the  table, 
and  proceeded  to  seat  himself  upon  a  sea-chest  in  the 
farthest  corner  of  the  room.  Here  again  he  made  an 
anxious  examination  of  the  paper,  turning  it  in  all  di- 
rections. He  said  nothing,  however,  and  his  conduct 
greatly  astonished  me  ;  yet  I  thought  it  prudent  not  to 
exacerbate  the  growing  moodiness  of  his  temper  by  any 
comment.  Presently  he  took  from  his  coat-pocket  a 
wallet,  placed  the  paper  carefully  in  it,  and  deposited 
both  in  a  writing-desk,  which  he  locked.  He  now  grew 
more  composed  in  his  demeanor;  but  his  original  air  of 
enthusiasm  had  quite  disappeared.     Yet  he  seemed  not 


246  Greatest  Short  Stories 

so  much  sulky  as  abstracted.  As  the  evening  wore  away 
he  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  revery,  from 
which  no  salUes  of  mine  could  arouse  him.  It  had  been 
my  intention  to  pass  the  night  at  the  hut,  as  I  had  fre- 
quently done  before,  but  seeing  my  host  in  this  mood,  I 
deemed  it  proper  to  take  leave.  He  did  not  press  me  to 
remain,  but,  as  I  departed,  he  shook  my  hand  with  even 
more  than  his  usual  cordiality. 

It  was  about  a  month  after  this  (and  during  the 
interval  I  had  seen  nothing  of  Legrand)  when  I  received 
a  visit,  at  Charleston,  from  his  man,  Jupiter.  I  had 
never  seen  the  good  old  negro  look  so  dispirited,  and 
I  feared  that  some  serious  disaster  had  befallen  my 
friend. 

"  Well,  Jup,"  said  I,  "  what  is  the  matter  now?  —  how 
is  your  master?  " 

"  Why,  to  speak  de  troof,  massa,  him  not  so  berry  well 
as  mought  be." 

"  Not  well !  I  am  truly  sorry  to  hear  it.  What  does  he 
complain  of?  " 

"  Dar  !  dat  's  it !  —  him  neber  'plain  of  notin,  —  but 
him  berry  sick  for  all  dat." 

"  Very  sick,  Jupiter  !  —  why  did  n't  you  say  so  at 
once?     Is  he  confined  to  bed?" 

"  No,  dat  he  ain't !  —  he  ain't  'fin'd  nowhar,  —  dat 's 
just  whar  de  shoe  pinch,  —  my  mind  is  got  to  be  berry 
hebby  'bout  poor  Massa  Will." 

"  Jupiter,  I  should  like  to  understand  what  it  is  you 
are  talking  about.  You  say  your  master  is  sick.  Has  n't 
he  told  you  what  ails  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  massa,  't  ain't  vvorf  while  for  to  git  mad  about 
de  matter,  —  Massa  Will  say  nofifin  at  all  ain't  de  matter 
wid  him,  —  but  den  what  make  him  go  about  looking  dis 
here  way,  wid  he  head  down  and  he  soldiers  up,  and  as 


The  Gold-Bug  247 

white  as  a  gose?  And  den  he  keep  a  syphon  all  de 
time " 

"  Keeps  a  what,  Jupiter?  " 

"  Keeps  a  syphon  wid  de  figgurs  on  de  slate,  —  de 
queerest  figgurs  I  ebber  did  see.  I 's  gittin'  to  be 
skeered,  I  tell  you.  Hab  for  to  keep  mighty  tight  eye 
'pon  him  'noovers.  T'  odder  day  he  gib  me  slip  'fore  de 
sun  up  and  was  gone  de  whole  ob  de  blessed  day.  I 
had  a  big  stick  ready  cut  for  to  gib  him  deuced  good 
beating  when  he  did  come,  —  but  I 's  sich  a  fool  dat  I 
had  n't  de  heart  arter  all,  —  he  look  so  berry  poorly." 

"  Eh  ?  —  what  ?  —  ah,  yes  !  —  upon  the  whole  I  think 
you  had  better  not  be  too  severe  with  the  poor  fellow, 

—  don't  flog  him,  Jupiter,  —  he  can't  very  well  stand  it, 

—  but  can  you  form  no  idea  of  what  has  occasioned 
this  illness,  or  rather  this  change  of  conduct?  Has  any 
thing  unpleasant  happened  since  I  saw  you  ?  " 

"  No,  massa,  dey  ain't  bin  noffin  onpleasant  since  den, 

—  't  was  fore  den,  I  'm  feared,  —  't  was  de  berry  day 
you  was  dare." 

"  How?  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"Why,  massa,  I  mean  de  bug —  dare  now." 

"The  what?  " 

"  De  bug,  —  I  'm  berry  sartain  dat  Massa  Will  bin 
bit  somewhere  'bout  de  head  by  dat  goole-bug." 

"  And  what  cause  have  you,  Jupiter,  for  such  a 
supposition?" 

"  Claws  enuff,  massa,  and  mouff  too.  I  nebber  did 
see  sich  a  deuced  bug,  —  he  kick  and  he  bite  ebery 
ting  what  cum  near  him.  Massa  Will  cotch  him  fuss, 
but  had  for  to  let  him  go  gin  mighty  quick,  I  tell  you 

—  den  was  de  time  he  must  ha'  got  de  bite.  I  didn't 
like  de  look  ob  de  bug  mouff,  myself,  nohow,  so 
I  would  n't  take  hold    ob   him   wid    my  finger,    but    I 


f48  Greatest  Short  Stories 

cotch  him  wid  a  piece  ob  paper  dat  I  found.  I  rap 
him  up  in  de  paper  and  stuff  piece  ob  it  in  he  mouff,  — 
dat  was  de  way." 

'•  And  you  think,  then,  that  your  master  was  really 
bitten  by  the  beetle,  and  that  the  bite  made  him  sick?" 

"  I  don't  tink  noffin  about  it,  —  I  nose  it.  What 
make  him  dream  'bout  de  goole  so  much,  if  't  ain't  cause 
he  bit  by  de  goole-bug?  I 's  heerd  'bout  dem  goole- 
bugs  'fore  dis." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  he  dreams  about  gold  ?  " 

"  How  I  know  ?  why,  cause  he  talk  about  it  in  he  sleep, 
—  dat's  how  I  nose." 

"  Well,  Jup,  perhaps  you  are  right ;  but  to  what  fortu- 
nate circumstance  am  I  to  attribute  the  honor  of  a  visit 
from  you  to-day  ?  " 

"  What  de  matter,  massa?" 

"  Did  you  bring  any  message  from  Mr.  Legrand  ?  " 

"  No,  massa,  I  bring  dis  here  pissel " ;  and  here 
Jupiter  handed  me  a  note  which  ran  thus : 

My  Dear :  Why  have  I  not  seen  you  for  so  long  a 

time  ?  I  hope  you  have  not  been  so  foolish  as  to  take 
offence  at  any  little  bnisqjierie  of  mine  ;  but  no,  that  is  im- 
probable. 

Since  I  saw  you  I  have  had  great  cause  for  anxiety. 
I  have  something  to  tell  you,  yet  scarcely  know  how  to  tell 
it,  or  whether  I  should  tell  it  at  all. 

I  have  not  been  quite  well  for  some  days  past,  and  poor 
old  Jup  annoys  me,  almost  beyond  endurance,  by  his  well- 
meant  attentions.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  —  he  had  pre- 
pared a  huge  stick,  the  other  day,  with  which  to  chastise  me 
for  giving  him  the  slip,  and  spending  the  day,  sohis,  among 
the  hills  on  the  mainland.  I  verily  believe  that  my  ill  looks 
alone  saved  me  a  flogging. 

I  have  made  no  addition  to  my  cabinet  since  we  met. 

If  you  can  in  any  way  make  it  convenient,  come  over  with 


The  Gold- Bug  249 

Jupiter.  Do  come.  I  wish  to  see  you  to-night,  upon  busi- 
ness of  importance.  I  assure  you  that  it  is  of  the  highest 
importance.     Ever  yours, 

William  Legrand. 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  this  note  which 
gave  me  great  uneasiness.  Its  whole  style  differed  ma- 
terially from  that  of  Legrand.  What  could  he  be  dream- 
ing of  ?  What  new  crotchet  possessed  his  excitable 
brain?  What  "business  of  the  highest  importance" 
could  he  possibly  have  to  transact?  Jupiter's  account 
of  him  boded  no  good.  I  dreaded  lest  the  continued 
pressure  of  misfortune  had,  at  length,  fairly  unsettled 
the  reason  of  my  friend.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
therefore,  I  prepared  to  accompany  the  negro. 

Upon  reaching  the  wharf,  I  noticed  a  scythe  and  three 
spades,  all  apparently  new,  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  in  which  we  were  to  embark. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  Jup  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Him  syfe,  massa,  and  spade." 

"  Very  true  ;  but  what  are  they  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Him  de  syfe  and  de  spade  what  Massa  Will  sis  'pon 
my  buying  for  him  in  de  town,  and  de  debbil's  own  lot 
of  money  I  had  to  gib  for  'em." 

"  But  what,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  mysterious,  is 
your  '  Massa  Will  '  going  to  do  with  scythes  and  spades?  " 

"  Dat  's  more  dan  /  know,  and  debbil  take  me  if  I 
don't  b'lieve  'tis  more  dan  he  know  too.  But  it's  all 
cum  ob  de  bug." 

Finding  that  no  satisfaction  was  to  be  obtained  of 
Jupiter,  whose  whole  intellect  seemed  to  be  absorbed 
by  "  de  bug,"  I  now  stepped  into  the  boat  and  made 
sail.  With  a  fair  and  strong  breeze  we  soon  ran  into  the 
little  cove  to  the  northward  of  Fort  Moultrie,  and  a  walk 
of  some  two  miles  brought  us  to  the  hut.     It  was  about 


250  Greatest  Short  Stories 

three  in  the  afternoon  when  we  arrived.  Legrand  had 
been  awaiting  us  in  eager  expectation.  He  grasped  my 
hand  witli  a  nervous  empressement  which  alarmed  me 
and  strengthened  the  suspicions  already  entertained. 
His  countenance  was  pale  even  to  ghastliness,  and  his 
deep-set  eyes  glared  with  unnatural  lustre.  After  some 
inquiries  respecting  his  health,  I  asked  him,  not  knowing 
what  better  to  say,  if  he  had  yet  obtained  the  scarabceus 
from  Lieutenant  G . 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  coloring  violently,  "  I  got  it 
from  him  the  next  morning.  Nothing  should  tempt  me 
to  part  with  that  scarabieus.  Do  you  know  that  Jupiter 
is  quite  right  about  it?" 

"  In  what  way?"  I  asked,  with  a  sad  foreboding  at 
heart. 

"  In  supposing  it  to  be  a  bug  of  real  goidJ^  He  said 
this  with  an  air  of  profound  seriousness,  and  I  felt  inex- 
pressibly shocked. 

"  This  bug  is  to  make  my  fortune,"  he  continued, 
with  a  triumphant  smile,  "  to  reinstate  me  in  my  family 
possessions.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  I  prize  it? 
Since  Fortune  has  thought  fit  to  bestow  it  upon  me,  I 
have  only  to  use  it  properly  and  I  shall  arrive  at  the 
gold  of  which  it  is  the  index.  Jupiter,  bring  me  that 
scarabceus!  " 

"  What !  de  bug,  massa?  I  'd  rudder  not  go  fer  trub- 
ble  dat  bug,  —  you  mus'  git  him  for  your  own  self." 

Hereupon  Legrand  arose,  with  a  grave  and  stately  air, 
and  brought  me  the  beetle  from  a  glass  case  in  which  it 
was  enclosed.  It  was  a  beautiful  scarabcuis,  and,  at  that 
time,  unknown  to  naturalists,  —  of  coarse  a  great  prize 
in  a  scientific  point  of  view.  There  were  two  round 
black  spots  near  one  extremity  of  the  back,  and  a  long 
one  near  the  other.     The  scales  were  exceedingly  hard 


The  Gold-Bug  251 

and  glossy,  with  all  the  appearance  of  burnished  gold. 
The  weight  of  the  insect  was  very  remarkable,  and,  tak- 
ing all  things  into  consideration,  I  could  hardly  blame 
Jupiter  for  his  opinion  respecting  it ;  but  what  to  make 
of  Legrand's  concordance  with  that  opinion  I  could  not 
for  the  life  of  me  tell. 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  said  he,  in  a  grandiloquent  tone, 
when  I  had  completed  my  examination  of  the  beetle,  — 
"  I  sent  for  you,  that  I  might  have  your  counsel  and 
assistance  in  furthering  the  views  of  Fate  and  of  the 
bug " 

"  My  dear  Legrand,"  I  cried,  interrupting  him,  "  you 
are  certainly  unwell,  and  had  better  use  some  little  pre- 
cautions. You  shall  go  to  bed,  and  I  will  remain  with 
you  a  few  days,  until  you  get  over  this.  You  are  fever- 
ish and " 

"  Feel  my  pulse,"  said  he. 

I  felt  it,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  found  not  the  sHghtest 
indication  of  fever. 

"  But  you  may  be  ill  and  yet  have  no  fever.  Allow 
me  this  once  to  prescribe  for  you.  In  the  first  place,  go 
to  bed.     In  the  next " 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  interposed  ;  "  I  am  as  well 
as  I  can  expect  to  be  under  the  excitement  which  I  suf- 
fer. If  you  really  wish  me  well,  you  will  relieve  this 
excitement." 

"  And  how  is  this  to  be  done?  " 

*'  Very  easily.  Jupiter  and  myself  are  going  upon  an 
expedition  into  the  hills,  upon  the  mainland,  and  in  this 
expedition  we  shall  need  the  aid  of  some  person  in  whom 
we  can  confide.  You  are  the  only  one  we  can  trust. 
Whether  we  succeed  or  fail,  the  excitement  which  you 
now  perceive  in  me  will  be  equally  allayed." 

"  I  am  anxious  to  oblige  you  in  any  way,"  I  replied  ; 


252  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  but  do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  uifernal  beetle  has  any 
connection  with  your  expedition  into  the  hills?  " 

"  It  has." 

"  Then,  Legrand,  I  can  become  a  party  to  no  such 
absurd  proceeding." 

"  I  am  sorry  —  very  sorry,  —  for  we  shall  have  to  try 
it  by  ourselves." 

"  Try  it  by  yourselves  !  The  man  is  surely  mad  !  — 
but  stay  !  —  how  long  do  you  propose  to  be  absent?  " 

"  Probably  all  night.  We  shall  start  immediately,  and 
be  back,  at  all  events,  by  sunrise." 

"  And  will  you  promise  me,  upon  your  honor,  that  when 
this  freak  of  yours  is  over,  and  the  bug  business  (good 
God  !)  settled  to  your  satisfaction,  you  will  then  return 
home  and  follow  my  advice  implicitly,  as  that  of  your 
physician?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  promise  ;  and  now  let  us  be  off,  for  we  have 
no  time  to  lose." 

With  a  heavy  heart  I  accompanied  my  friend.  We 
started  about  four  o'clock,  —  Legrand,  Jupiter,  the 
dog,  and  myself.  Jupiter  had  with  him  the  scythe  and 
spades,  the  whole  of  which  he  insisted  upon  carrying,  — 
more  through  fear,  it  seemed  to  me,  of  trusting  either  of 
the  implements  within  reach  of  his  master,  than  from 
any  excess  of  industry  or  complaisance.  His  demeanor 
was  dogged  in  the  extreme,  and  "  dat  deuced  bug  "  were 
the  sole  words  which  escaped  his  lips  during  the  journey. 
For  my  own  part,  I  had  charge  of  a  couple  of  dark-lan- 
terns, while  Legrand  contented  himself  with  the  scara- 
bceiis,  which  he  carried  attached  to  the  end  of  a  bit  of 
whipcord ;  twirling  it  too  and  fro,  with  the  air  of  a  con- 
jurer, as  he  went.  When  I  observed  this  last  plain  evi- 
dence of  my  friend's  aberration  of  mind,  I  could  scarcely 
refrain  from  tears.     I  thought  it  best,  however,  to  humor 


The  Gold-Bug  253 

his  fancy,  at  least  for  the  present,  or  until  I  could  adopt 
some  more  energetic  measures  with  a  chance  of  success. 
In  the  meantime  I  endeavored,  but  all  in  vain,  to  sound 
him  in  regard  to  the  object  of  the  expedition.  Having 
succeeded  in  inducing  me  to  accompany  him,  he  seemed 
unwilling  to  hold  conversation  upon  any  topic  of  minor 
importance,  and  to  all  my  questions  vouchsafed  no  other 
reply  than  "  We  shall  see  !  " 

We  crossed  the  creek  at  the  head  of  the  island  by 
means  of  a  skiff,  and,  ascending  the  high  grounds  on  the 
shore  of  the  mainland,  proceeded  in  a  northwesterly 
direction,  through  a  tract  of  country  excessively  wild  and 
desolate,  where  no  trace  of  a  human  footstep  was  to  be 
seen.  Legrand  led  the  way  with  decision,  pausing  only 
for  an  instant,  here  and  there,  to  consult  what  appeared 
to  be  certain  landmarks  of  his  own  contrivance  upon  a 
former  occasion. 

In  this  manner  we  journeyed  for  about  two  hours,  and 
the  sun  was  just  setting  when  we  entered  a  region  infi- 
nitely more  dreary  than  any  yet  seen.  It  was  a  species 
of  table-land,  near  the  summit  of  an  almost  inaccessible 
hill,  densely  wooded  from  base  to  pinnacle,  and  inter- 
spersed with  huge  crags  that  appeared  to  lie  loosely  upon 
the  soil,  and  in  many  cases  were  prevented  from  precipi- 
tating themselves  into  the  valleys  below,  merely  by  the 
support  of  the  trees  against  which  they  reclined.  Deep 
ravines,  in  various  directions,  gave  an  air  of  still  sterner 
solemnity  to  the  scene. 

The  natural  platform  to  which  we  had  clambered  was 
thickly  overgrown  with  brambles,  through  which  we  soon 
discovered  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  force 
our  way  but  for  the  scythe  ;  and  Jupiter,  by  direction  of 
his  master,  proceeded  to  clear  for  us  a  path  to  the  foot 
of  an  enormously  tall  tulip-tree,  which  stood,  with  some 


254  Greatest  Short  Stories 

eight  or  ten  oaks,  upon  the  level,  and  far  surpassed  them 
all,  and  all  other  trees  which  I  had  then  ever  seen,  in  the 
beauty  of  its  foliage  and  form,  in  the  wide  spread  of  its 
branches,  and  in  the  general  majesty  of  its  appearance. 
When  we  reached  this  tree,  Legrand  turned  to  Jupiter, 
and  asked  him  if  he  thought  he  could  climb  it.  The  old 
man  seemed  a  little  staggered  by  the  question,  and  for 
some  moments  made  no  reply.  At  length  he  approached 
the  huge  trunk,  walked  slowly  around  it,  and  examined  it 
with  minute  attention.  When  he  had  completed  his 
scrutiny,  he  merely  said  : 

"  Yes,  massa,  Jup  climb  any  tree  he  ebber  see  in  he  life." 

"  Then  up  with  you  as  soon  as  possible,  for  it  will 
soon  be  too  dark  to  see  what  we  are  about." 

"  How  far  mus'  go  up,  massa?  "  inquired  Jupiter. 

"  Get  up  the  main  trunk  first,  and  then  I  will  tell  you 
which  way  to  go  —  and  here  —  stop  !  take  this  beetle 
with  you." 

"  De  bug,  Massa  Will  !  —  de  goole-bug  !  "  cried  the 
negro,  drawing  back  in  dismay  —  "  what  for  raus'  tote  de 
bug  way  up  de  tree  ?  —  d — n  if  I  do  !  " 

"  If  you  are  afraid,  Jup,  a  great  big  negro  like  you,  to 
take  hold  of  a  harmless  little  dead  beetle,  why  you  can 
carry  it  up  by  this  string ;  but,  if  you  do  not  take  it  up 
with  you  in  some  way,  I  shall  be  under  the  necessity  of 
breaking  your  head  with  this  shovel." 

"What  de  matter  now,  massa?  "said  Jup,  evidently 
shamed  into  compliance  ;  "  always  want  for  to  raise  fuss 
wid  old  nigger.  Was  only  funnin  anyhow.  Me  feered 
de  bug!  what  I  keer  for  de  bug?  "  Here  he  took 
cautiously  hold  of  the  extreme  end  of  the  string,  and, 
maintaining  the  insect  as  far  from  his  person  as  circum- 
stances would  permit,  prepared  to  ascend  the  tree. 

In  youth,  the  tulip- tree,  or  Liriodendron  tulipiferutn^ 


The  Gold-Bug  255 

the  most  magnificent  of  American  foresters,  has  a  trunk 
peculiarly  smooth,  and  often  rises  to  a  great  height  with- 
out lateral  branches ;  but,  in  its  riper  age,  the  bark 
becomes  gnarled  and  uneven,  while  many  short  limbs 
make  their  appearance  on  the  stem.  Thus  the  difficulty 
of  ascension,  in  the  present  case,  lay  more  in  semblance 
than  in  reality.  Embracing  the  huge  cylinder,  as 
closely  as  possible,  with  his  arms  and  knees,  seizing  with 
his  hands  some  projections,  and  resting  his  naked  toes 
upon  others,  Jupiter,  after  one  or  two  narrow  escapes 
from  falling,  at  length  wriggled  himself  into  the  first 
great  fork,  and  seemed  to  consider  the  whole  business 
as  virtually  accomplished.  The  risk  of  the  achievement 
was,  in  fact,  now  over,  although  the  climber  was  some 
sixty  or  seventy  feet  from  the  ground. 

"Which  way  mus'  go  now,  Massa  Will?  "  he  asked. 

"  Keep  up  the  largest  branch,  — the  one  on  this  side," 
said  Legrand.  The  negro  obeyed  him  promptly,  and 
apparently  with  but  little  trouble  ;  ascending  higher  and 
higher,  until  no  glimpse  of  his  squat  figure  could  be 
obtained  through  the  dense  foliage  which  enveloped  it. 
Presently  his  voice  was  heard  in  a  sort  of  halloo. 

"  How  much  fudder  is  got  for  go?  " 

"  How  high  up  are  you?"  asked  Legrand. 

"  Ebber  so  fur,"  replied  the  negro;  "can  see  de  sky 
fru  de  top  ob  de  tree." 

"  Never  mind  the  sky,  but  attend  to  what  I  say. 
Look  down  the  trunk  and  count  the  limbs  below  you  on 
this  side.     How  many  limbs  have  you  passed? " 

"  One,  two,  tree,  four,  fibe,  —  I  done  pass  fibe  big 
limb,  massa,  'pon  (lis  side." 

"Then  go  one  limb  higher." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  voice  was  heard  again,  announc- 
ing that  the  seventh  limb  was  attained. 


256  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  Now,  Jup,"  cried  Legrand,  evidently  much  excited, 
"  I  want  you  to  work  your  way  out  upon  that  Hmb  as  far 
as  you  can.     If  you  see  anything  strange,  let  me  know." 

By  this  time  what  little  doubt  I  might  have  entertained 
of  my  poor  friend's  insanity  was  put  finally  at  rest.  I 
had  no  alternative  but  to  conclude  him  stricken  with 
lunacy,  an(i  I  became  seriously  anxious  about  getting 
him  home.  While  I  was  pondering  upon  wliat  was  best 
to  be  done,  Jupiter's  voice  was  again  heard. 

"  'Mos'  feerd  for  to  ventur  'pon  dis  limb  berry  far,  — 
'tis  dead  limb  putty  much  all  de  way." 

"Did  you  say  it  was  a  dead  limb,  Jupiter?"  cried 
Legrand,  in  a  quavering  voice. 

"  Yes,  massa,  him  dead  as  de  door-nail  —  done  up 
for  sartain  —  done  departed  dis  here  life." 

"What  in  the  name  of  Heaven  shall  I  do?"  asked 
Legrand,  seemingly  in  the  greatest  distress. 

"  Do  1  "  said  I,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  interpose  a 
word;  "why,  come  home  and  go  to  bed.  Come,  now  ! 
—  that 's  a  fine  fellow.  It 's  getting  late,  and,  besides, 
you  remember  your  promise." 

"Jupiter,"  cried  he,  without  heeding  me  in  the  least, 
"  do  you  hear  me?  " 

"Yes,  Massa  Will,  hear  you  ebber  so  plain." 

"  Try  the  wood  well,  then,  with  your  knife,  and  see  if 
you  think  it  very  rotten." 

"  Him  rotten,  massa,  sure  nuiif,"  replied  the  negro  in 
a  few  moments,  "  but  not  so  berry  rotten  as  mought  be. 
Mought  ventur  out  leetle  way  'pon  de  limb  by  myself, 
dat  's  true." 

"  By  yourself  I  —  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why  I  mean  de  bug.  'T  is  berry  hebby  bug. 
S'pose  I  drop  him  down  fuss,  and  den  de  limb  won't 
break  wid  just  de  weight  ob  one  nigger." 


The  Gold-Bug  257 

"You  infernal  scoundrel !  "  cried  Legrand,  apparently 
much  relieved,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  telling  me  such 
nonsense  as  that?  As  sure  as  you  drop  that  beetle  I  '11 
break  your  neck.  Look  here,  Jupiter,  do  you  hear 
me?" 

"  Yes,  massa,  need  n't  hollo  at  poor  nigger  dat  style." 

"  Well  !  now  listen  !  —  if  you  will  venture  out  on  the 
limb  as  far  as  you  think  safe,  and  not  let  go  the  beetle, 
I  '11  make  you  a  present  of  a  silver  dollar  as  soon  as  you 
get  down." 

"  I  'm  gwine,  Massa  Will,  —  'deed  I  is,"  replied  the 
negro  very  promptly,  — "  mos'  out  to  the  eend  now." 

"Out  to  the- end  f  here  fairly  screamed  Legrand; 
"do  you  say  you  are  out  to  the  end  of   that  limb?" 

"  Soon  be  to  de  eend,  massa,  —  0-0-0-o-oh  !  Lor-gol- 
a-marcy  !  what  is  dis  here  'pon  de  tree?  " 

"  Well !  "  cried  Legrand,  highly  delighted,  "  what  is 
it?" 

"  Why,  't  ain't  nofifin  but  a  skull  —  somebody  bin  lef 
him  head  up  de  tree,  and  de  crows  done  gobble  ebery 
bit  ob  de  meat  off." 

"  A  skull,  you  say  !  very  well  !  —  how  is  it  fastened  to 
the  limb?  —  what  holds  it  on?" 

"  Sure  nuff,  massa  ;  mus'  look.  Why  dis  berry  curous 
sarcumstance,  'pon  my  word,  —  dare  's  a  great  big  nail  in 
de  skull,  what  fastens  ob  it  on  to  de  tree." 

"  Well,  now,  Jupiter,  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you,  —  do 
you  hear? " 

"  Yes,  massa." 

"  Pay  attention,  then  !  — find  the  left  eye  of  the  skull." 

"  Hum  !  hoo  !  dat 's  good  !  why,  dare  ain't  no  eye  lef 
at  all." 

"  Curse  your  stupidity  !  do  you  know  your  right  hand 
from  your  left?  " 

17 


258  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  Yes,  I  nose  dat,  —  nose  all  'bout  dat,  —  't  is  my  lef 
hand  what  I  chops  de  wood  wid." 

"  To  be  sure  !  you  are  left-handed  ;  and  your  left  eye 
is  on  the  same  side  as  your  left  hand.  Now,  I  suppose, 
you  can  find  the  left  eye  of  the  skull,  or  the  place  where 
the  left  eye  has  been.     Have  you  found  it  ?  " 

Here  was  a  long  pause,     .^.t  length  the  negro  asked  : 

"  Is  de  Icf  eye  of  de  skull  "jjon  de  same  side  as  de  lef 
hand  of  de  skull  too?  —  'cause  de  skull  ain't  not  got  a  bit 
ob  a  hand  at  all,  —  nebber  mind  !  I  got  de  lef  eye  now, 
—  here  de  lef  eye  !  what  mus'  do  wid  it?  " 

"  Let  the  beetle  drop  through  it,  as  far  as  the  string 
will  reach,  —  but  be  careful  and  not  let  go  your  hold  of 
the  string." 

"  All  dat  done,  Massa  Will ;  mighty  easy  ting  for  to 
put  de  bug  fru  de  hole,  —  look  outfor  liim  dare  below  !  " 

During  this  colloquy  no  portion  of  Jupiter's  person 
could  be  seen ;  but  the  beetle,  which  he  had  suffered  to 
descend,  was  now  visible  at  the  end  of  the  string,  and 
glistened,  like  a  globe  of  burnished  gold,  in  the  last  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  some  of  which  still  faintly  illumined 
the  eminence  upon  which  we  stood.  The  scarabceus 
hung  quite  clear  of  any  branches,  and,  if  allowed  to  fall, 
would  have  fallen  at  our  feet.  Legrand .  immediately 
took  the  scythe,  and  cleared  with  it  a  circular  space, 
three  or  four  yards  in  diameter,  just  beneath  the  insect, 
and  having  accomplished  this,  ordered  Jupiter  to  let  go 
the  string  and  come  down  from  the  tree. 

Driving  a  peg,  with  great  nicety,  into  the  ground,  at 
the  precise  spot  where  the  beetle  fell,  my  friend  now 
produced  from  his  pocket  a  tape-measure.  Fastening 
one  end  of  this  at  that  point  of  the  trunk  of  the  tree 
which  was  nearest  the  peg,  he  unrolled  it  till  it  reached 
the  peg,  and  thence  farther  unrolled  it,  in  the  direction 


The  Gold-Bug  '      259 

already  established  by  the  two  points  of  the  tree  and 
the  peg,  for  the  distance  of  fifty  feet,  —  Jupiter  clear- 
ing away  the  brambles  with  the  scythe.  At  the  spot  thus 
attained  a  second  peg  was  driven,  and  about  this,  as  a 
centre,  a  rude  circle,  about  four  feet  in  diameter,  de- 
scribed. Taking  now  a  spade  himself,  and  giving  one 
to  Jupiter  and  one  to  me,  Legrand  begged  us  to  set  about 
digging  as  quickly  as  possible. 

To  speak  the  truth,  I  had  no  especial  relish  for  such 
amusement  at  any  time,  and,  at  that  particular  moment, 
would  most  willingly  have  decHned  it ;  for  the  night  was 
coming  on,  and  I  felt  much  fatigued  with  the  exercise 
already  taken ;  but  I  saw  no  mode  of  escape,  and  was 
fearful  of  disturbing  my  poor  friend's  equanimity  by  a 
refusal.  Could  I  have  depended,  indeed,  upon  Jupiter's 
aid,  I  would  have  had  no  hesitation  in  attempting  to  get 
the  lunatic  home  by  force  ;  but  I  was  too  well  assured  of 
the  old  negro's  disposition,  to  hope  that  he  would  assist 
me,  under  any  circumstances,  in  a  personal  contest  with 
his  master.  I  made  no  doubt  that  the  latter  had  been 
infected  with  some  of  the  innumerable  Southern  super- 
stitions about  money  buried,  and  that  his  fantasy  had 
received  confirmation  by  the  finding  of  the  scarabaus, 
or,  perhaps,  by  Jupiter's  obstinacy  in  maintaining  it  to 
be  "  a  bug  of  real  gold."  A  mind  disposed  to  lunacy 
would  readily  be  led  away  by  such  suggestions,  —  espe- 
cially if  chiming  in  with  favorite  preconceived  ideas,  — 
and  then  I  called  to  mind  the  poor  fellow's  speech  about 
the  beetle's  being  "  the  index  of  his  fortune."  Upon 
the  whole,  I  was  sadly  vexed  and  puzzled,  but,  at  length, 
I  concluded  to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity,  —  to  dig  with 
a  good  will,  and  thus  the  sooner  to  convince  the  vision- 
ary, by  ocular  demonstration,  of  the  fallacy  of  the  opin- 
ions he  entertained. 


26o  Greatest  Short  Stories 

The  kinterns  having  been  lit,  we  all  fell  to  work  with 
a  zeal  worthy  a  more  rational  cause  ;  and,  as  the  glare 
fell  upon  our  persons  and  implements,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  how  picturesque  a  group  we  composed,  and  how 
strange  and  suspicious  our  labors  must  have  appeared 
to  any  interloper  who,  by  chance,  might  have  stumbled 
upon  our  whereabouts. 

We  dug  very  steadily  for  two  hours.  Little  was  said  ; 
and  our  chief  embarrassment  lay  in  the  yelpings  of  the 
dog,  who  took  exceeding  interest  in  our  proceedings. 
He  at  length  became  so  obstreperous  that  we  grew 
fearful  of  his  giving  the  alarm  to  some  stragglers  in 
the  vicinity,  —  or,  rather,  this  was  the  apprehension  of 
Legrand  ;  —  for  myself,  I  should  have  rejoiced  at  any 
interruption  which  might  have  enabled  me  to  get  the 
wanderer  home.  The  noise  was,  at  length,  very  effectu- 
ally silenced  by  Jupiter,  who,  getting  out  of  the  hole  with 
a  dogged  air  of  deliberation,  tied  the  brute's  mouth  up 
with  one  of  his  suspenders,  and  then  returned,  with  a 
grave  chuckle,  to  his  task. 

When  the  time  mentioned  had  expired,  we  had 
reached  a  depth  of  five  feet,  and  yet  no  signs  of  any 
treasure  became  manifest.  A  general  pause  ensued,  and 
I  began  to  hope  that  the  farce  was  at  an  end.  Legrand, 
however,  although  evidently  much  disconcerted,  wiped 
his  brow  thoughtfully,  and  recommenced.  We  had  ex- 
cavated the  entire  circle  of  four  feet  diameter,  and  now 
we  slighdy  enlarged  the  limit,  and  went  to  the  farther 
depth  of  two  feet.  Still  nothing  appeared.  The  gold- 
seeker,  whom  I  sincerely  pitied,  at  length  clambered  from 
the  pit,  with  the  bitterest  disappointment  imprinted 
upon  every  feature,  and  proceeded,  slowly  and  reluc- 
tantly, to  put  on  his  coat,  which  he  had  thrown  off  at  the 
beginning  of  his  labor.     In  the   meantime  I  made  no 


The  Gold-Bug  261 

remark.  Jupiter,  at  a  signal  from  his  master,  began  to 
gather  up  his  tools.  This  done,  and  the  dog  having 
been  unmuzzled,  we  turned  in  profound  silence  towards 
home. 

We  had  taken,  perhaps,  a  dozen  steps  in  this  direction, 
when,  with  a  loud  oath,  Legrand  strode  up  to  Jupiter, 
and  seized  him  by  the  collar.  The  astonished  negro 
opened  his  eyes  and  mouth  to  the  fullest  extent,  let  fall 
the  spades,  and  fell  upon  his  knees. 

"  You  scoundrel,"  said  Legrand,  hissing  out  the  syl- 
lables from  between  his  clenched  teeth,  —  "  you  infernal 
black  villain  !  —  speak,  I  tell  you  !  —  answer  me  this  in- 
stant, without  prevarication  !  —  which  —  which  is  your 
left  eye?" 

"  Oh,  my  golly,  Massa  Will  !  ain't  dis  here  my  lef  eye 
for  sartain?"  roared  the  terrified  Jupiter,  placing  his 
hand  upon  his  right  organ  of  vision,  and  holding  it  there 
with  a  desperate  pertinacity,  as  if  in  immediate  dread  of 
his  master's  attempt  at  a  gouge. 

"  I  thought  so  !  —  I  knew  it  !  hurrah  !  "  vociferated 
Legrand,  letting  the  negro  go,  and  executing  a  series  of 
curvets  and  caracoles,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  his 
valet,  who,  arising  from  his  knees,  looked,  mutely,  from 
his  master  to  myself,  and  then  from  myself  to  his 
master. 

"  Come  !  we  must  go  back,"  said  the  latter,  "  the 
game  's  not  up  yet."  And  he  again  led  the  way  to  the 
tulip-tree. 

"Jupiter,"  said  he,  when  we  reached  its  foot,  "come 
here  !  Was  the  skull  nailed  to  the  limb  with  the  face 
outwards,  or  with  the  face  to  the  limb?" 

"  De  face  was  out,  massa,  so  dat  de  crows  could  get 
at  de  eyes  good,  widout  any  trouble." 

"  Well,  then,  was  it  this  eye  or  that  through  which  you 


262  Greatest  Short  Stories 

diiipped  the  beetle?"  — here  Legrand  touched  each  of 
Jupiter's  eyes. 

"  'T  was  dis  eye,  massa,  —  de  lef  eye,  —  jis  as  you  tell 
me,"  and  here  it  was  his  right  eye  that  the  negro  indi- 
cated. 

"  I'hat  will  do,  —  we  must  try  it  again." 

Here  my  friend,  about  whose  madness  I  now  saw,  or 
lancied  that  I  saw,  certain  indications  of  method,  re- 
moved the  peg  which  marked  the  spot  where  the  beetle 
fell,  to  a  spot  about  three  inches  to  the  westward  of  its 
former  position.  Taking,  now,  the  tape-measure  from 
the  nearest  point  of  the  trunk  to  the  peg,  as  before,  and 
continuing  the  extension  in  a  straight  line  to  the  distance 
of  fifty  feet,  a  spot  was  indicated,  removed,  by  several 
yards,  from  the  point  at  which  we  had  been  digging. 

Around  the  new  position  a  circle,  somewhat  largei 
than  in  the  former  instance,  was  now  described,  and  we 
again  set  to  work  with  the  spades.  I  was  dreadfully 
weary,  but,  scarcely  understanding  what  had  occasioned 
the  change  in  my  thoughts,  I  felt  no  longer  any  great 
aversion  from  the  labor  imposed.  I  had  become  most 
unaccountably  interested,  —  na}-^,  even  excited.  Perhaps 
there  was  something,  amid  all  the  extravagant  demeanor 
of  Legrand,  —  some  air  of  forethought,  or  of  deliberation, 
—  which  impressed  me.  I  dug  eagerly,  and  now  and 
then  caught  myself  actually  looking,  with  something  that 
very  much  resembled  expectation,  for  the  fancied  treas- 
ure, the  vision  of  which  had  demented  my  unfortunate 
companion.  At  a  period  when  such  vagaries  of  thought 
most  fully  possessed  me,  and  when  we  had  been  at  work 
perhaps  an  hour  and  a  half,  we  were  again  interrupted  by 
the  violent  bowlings  of  the  dog.  His  uneasiness,  in  the 
first  instance,  had  been,  evidently,  but  the  result  of  play- 
fulness or  caprice,  but  he   now  assumed  a  bitter  and 


The  Gold-Bug  263 

serious  tone.  Upon  Jupiter's  again  attempting  to  muzzle 
him,  he  made  furious  resistance,  and,  leaping  into  the 
hole,  tore  up  the  mould  frantically  with  his  claws.  In  a 
few  seconds  he  had  uncovered  a  mass  of  human  bones, 
forming  two  complete  skeletons,  intermingled  with  several 
buttons  of  metal,  and  what  appeared  to  be  the  dust  of 
decayed  woollen.  One  or  two  strokes  of  a  spade  up- 
turned the  blade  of  a  large  Spanish  knife,  and,  as  we  dug 
farther,  three  or  four  loose  pieces  of  gold  and  silver 
coin  came  to  light. 

At  sight  of  these,  the  joy  of  Jupiter  could  scarcely  be 
restrained,  but  the  countenance  of  his  master  wore  an 
air  of  extreme  disappointment.  He  urged  us,  however, 
to  continue  our  exertions,  and  the  words  were  hardly 
uttered,  when  I  stumbled  and  fell  forward,  having  caught 
the  toe  of  my  boot  in  a  large  ring  of  iron  that  lay  half 
buried  in  the  loose  earth. 

We  now  worked  in  earnest,  and  never  did  I  pass  ten 
minutes  of  more  intense  excitement.  During  this  in- 
terval we  had  fairly  unearthed  an  oblong  chest  of  wood, 
which,  from  its  perfect  preservation  and  wonderful  hard- 
ness, had  plainly  been  subjected  to  some  mineralizing 
process,  —  perhaps  that  of  the  bichloride  of  mercury. 
This  box  was  three  feet  and  a  half  long,  three  feet  broad, 
and  two  and  a  half  feet  deep.  It  was  firmly  secured  by 
bands  of  wrought- iron,  riv^eted,  and  forming  a  kind  of 
open  trellis-work  over  the  whole.  On  each  side  of  the 
chest,  near  the  top,  were  three  rings  of  iron,  —  six  in  all,  — 
by  means  of  which  a  firm  hold  could  be  obtained  by  six 
persons.  Our  utmost  united  endeavors  served  only  to 
disturb  the  coffer  very  slightly  in  its  bed.  We  at  once 
saw  the  impossibility  of  removing  so  great  a  weight. 
Luckily,  the  sole  fastenings  of  the  lid  consisted  of  two 
sliding  bolts.     These  we   drew  back,  —  trembling    and 


264  Greatest  Short  Stories 

panting  with  anxiety.  In  an  instant,  a  treasure  of  in- 
calculable value  lay  gleaming  before  us.  As  the  rays  of 
the  lanterns  fell  within  the  pit,  there  flashed  upwards  a 
glow  and  a  glare,  from  a  confused  heap  of  gold  and  of 
jewels,  that  absolutely  dazzled  our  eyes. 

I  shall  not  pretend  to  describe  the  feelings  with  which 
I  gazed.  Amazement  was,  of  course,  predominant.  Le- 
grand  appeared  exhausted  with  excitement,  and  spoke 
very  few  words.  Jupiter's  countenance  wore,  for  some 
minutes,  as  deadly  a  pallor  as  it  is  possible,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  for  any  negro's  visage  to  assume.  He  seemed 
stupefied,  —  thunder-stricken.  Presently  he  fell  upon 
his  knees  in  the  pit,  and,  burying  his  naked  arms  up  to 
the  elbows  in  gold,  let  them  there  remain,  as  if  enjoying 
the  luxury  of  a  bath.  At  length,  with  a  deep  sigh,  he 
exclaimed,   as  if  in  a  soliloquy : 

"  And  dis  all  cum  ob  de  goole-bug  !  de  putty  goole- 
bug  1  de  poor  little  goole-bug,  what  I  boosed  in  dat 
sabage  kind  ob  style  !  Ain't  you  'shamed  ob  yourself, 
nigger? —  Answer  me  dat !  " 

It  became  necessary,  at  last,  that  I  should  arouse  both 
master  and  valet  to  the  expediency  of  removing  the 
treasure.  It  was  growing  late,  and  it  behooved  us  to 
make  exertion,  that  we  might  get  everything  housed 
before  daylight.  It  was  difficult  to  say  what  should  be 
done,  and  much  time  was  spent  in  deliberation,  —  so 
confused  were  the  ideas  of  all.  We  finally  lightened  the 
box  by  removing  two-thirds  of  its  contents,  v/hen  we 
were  enabled,  with  some  trouble,  to  raise  it  from  the  hole. 
The  articles  taken  out  were  deposited  among  the  bram- 
bles, and  the  dog  left  to  guard  them,  with  strict  orders 
from  Jupiter  neither,  upon  any  pretence,  to  stir  from  the 
spot,  nor  to  open  his  mouth,  until  our  return.  We  then 
hurriedly  made  for  home  with  the  chest;  reaching  the 


The  Gold- Bug  265 

hut  in  safety,  but  after  excessive  toil,  at  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Worn  out  as  we  were,  it  was  not  in  hu- 
man nature  to  do  more  immediately.  We  rested  until 
two,  and  had  supper ;  starting  for  the  hills  immediately 
afterwards,  armed  with  three  stout  sacks,  which,  by  good 
luck,  were  upon  the  premises.  A  little  before  four  we 
arrived  at  the  pit,  divided  the  remainder  of  the  booty,  as 
equally  as  might  be,  among  us,  and,  leaving  the  holes 
unfilled,  again  set  out  for  the  hut,  at  which,  for  the  sec- 
ond time,  we  deposited  our  golden  burdens,  just  as  the 
first  faint  streaks  of  the  dawn  gleamed  from  over  the 
tree-tops  in  the  east. 

We  were  now  thoroughly  broken  down  ;  but  the  in- 
tense excitement  of  the  time  denied  us  repose.  After 
an  unquiet  slumber  of  some  three  or  four  hours'  duration, 
we  arose,  as  if  by  preconcert,  to  make  examination  of 
our  treasure. 

The  chest  had  been  full  to  the  brim,  and  we  spent  the 
whole  day  and  the  greater  part  of  the  next  night  in  a 
scrutiny  of  its  contents.  There  had  been  nothing  like 
order  or  arrangement.  Everything  had  been  heaped  in 
promiscuously.  Having  assorted  all  with  care,  we  found 
ourselves  possessed  of  even  vaster  wealth  than  we  had  at 
first  supposed.  In  coin  there  was  rather  more  than  four 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  —  estimating  the 
value  of  the  pieces,  as  accurately  as  we  could,  by  the 
tables  of  the  period.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  silver. 
All  was  gold  of  antique  date  and  of  great  variety,  — 
French,  Spanish,  and  German  money,  with  a  few  English 
guineas,  and  some  counters,  of  which  we  had  never  seen 
specimens  before.  There  were  several  very  large  and 
heavy  coins,  so  worn  that  we  could  make  nothing  of 
their  inscriptions.  There  was  no  American  money.  The 
value  of    the    jewels  we  found    more    difficulty  in    es- 


266  Greatest  Short  Stories 

timating.  There  were  diamonds,  —  some  of  them 
exceedingly  large  and  fine, — a  hundred  and  ten  in 
all,  and  not  one  of  them  small ;  eighteen  rubies  of 
remarkable  brilliancy  ;  three  hundred  and  ten  emeralds, 
all  very  beautiful ;  and  twenty-one  sapphires,  with  an 
opal.  These  stones  had  all  been  broken  from  their 
settings  and  thrown  loose  in  the  chest.  The  settings 
themselves,  which  we  picked  out  from  among  the  other 
gold,  appeared  to  have  been  beaten  up  with  hammers 
as  if  to  prevent  identification.  Besides  all  this,  there 
was  a  vast  quantity  of  solid  gold  ornaments ;  —  nearly 
two  hundred  massive  finger  and  ear  rings  ;  —  rich  chains, 
—  thirty  of  these,  if  I  remember ;  —  eighty-three  very 
large  and  heavy  crucifixes  :  —  five  gold  censers  of  great 
value  ;  —  a  prodigious  golden  punch-bowl,  ornamented 
with  richly  chased  vine-leaves  and  Bacchanalian  figures  ; 
with  two  sword-handles  exquisitely  embossed,  and  many 
other  smaller  articles  which  I  cannot  recollect.  The 
weight  of  these  valuables  exceeded  three  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  avoirdupois ;  and  in  this  estimate  I  have_ 
not  included  one  hundred  and  ninety-seven  superb 
gold  watches  ;  three  of  the  number  being  worth  each 
five  hundred  dollars,  if  one.  Many  of  them  were  very 
old,  and  as  time-keepers  valueless ;  the  works  having 
suffered,  more  or  less,  from  corrosion ;  but  all  were 
richly  jewelled  and  in  cases  of  great  worth.  We  es- 
timated the  entire  contents  of  the  chest,  that  night,  at 
a  million  and  a  half  of  dollars ;  and,  upon  the  subse- 
quent disposal  of  the  trinkets  and  jewels  (a  few  being 
retained  for  our  own  use),  it  was  found  that  we  had 
greatly  undervalued  the  treasure. 

When,  at  length,  we  had  concluded  our  examination, 
and  the  intense  excitement  of  the  time  had  in  some  meas- 
ure subsided,  Legrand,  who  saw  that  I  was  dying  with 


The  Gold-Bug  267 

impatience  for  a  solution  of  this  most  extraordinary  rid- 
dle, entered  into  a  full  detail  of  all  the  circumstances 
connected  with  it. 

"  You  remember,"  said  he,  "  the  night  when  I  handed 
you  the  rough  sketch  I  had  made  of  the  scarabceus. 
You  recollect,  also,  that  I  became  quite  vexed  at  you 
for  insisting  that  my  drawing  resembled  a  death's-head. 
When  you  first  made  this  assertion  I  thought  you  were 
jesting  ;  but  afterwards  I  called  to  mind  the  peculiar  spots 
on  the  back  of  the  insect,  and  admitted  to  myself  that 
your  remark  had  some  little  foundation  in  fact.  Still,  the 
sneer  at  my  graphic  powers  irritated  me,  —  for  I  am  con- 
sidered a  good  artist,  —  and,  therefore,  when  you  handed 
me  the  scrap  of  parchment,  I  was  about  to  crumple  it  up 
and  throw  it  angrily  into  the  fire." 

"  The  scrap  of  paper,  you  mean,"  said  I. 

"  No  ;  it  had  much  of  the  appearance  of  paper,  and  at 
first  I  supposed  it  to  be  such,  but  when  I  came  to  draw 
upon  it,  I  discovered  it,  at  once,  to  be  a  piece  of  very  thin 
parchment.  It  was  quite  dirty,  you  remember.  Well,  as 
I  was  in  the  very  act  of  crumpling  it  up,  my  glance  fell 
upon  the  sketch  at  which  you  had  been  looking,  and  you 
may  imagine  my  astonishment  when  I  perceived,  in  fact, 
the  figure  of  a  death's-head,  just  where,  it  seemed  to  me, 
I  had  made  the  drawing  of  the  beetle.  For  a  moment  I 
was  too  much  amazed  to  think  with  accuracy.  I  knew 
that  my  design  was  very  different  in  detail  from  this,  — 
although  there  was  a  certain  similarity  in  general  outline. 
Presently  I  took  a  candle,  and  seating  myself  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room,  proceeded  to  scrutinize  the  parchment 
more  closely.  Upon  turning  it  over,  I  saw  my  own  sketch 
upon  the  reverse,  just  as  I  had  made  it.  My  first  idea, 
now,  was  mere  surprise  at  the  really  remarkable  similarity  of 
outline,  —  at  the  singular  coincidence  involved  in  the  fact 


268  Greatest  Short  Stories 

that,  unknown  to  me,  there  should  have  been  a  skull  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  parchment,  immediately  beneath 
my  figure  of  the  scarabceus,  and  that  this  skull,  not  only 
in  outline,  but  in  size,  should  so  closely  resemble  my 
drawing.  I  say  the  singularity  of  this  coincidence  abso- 
lutely stupefied  me  for  a  time.  This  is  the  usual  effect 
of  such  coincidences.  The  mind  struggles  to  establish 
a  connection,  —  a  sequence  of  cause  and  effect,  —  and, 
being  unable  to  do  so,  suffers  a  species  of  temporary  pa- 
ralysis. But,  when  I  recovered  from  this  stupor,  there 
dawned  upon  me  gradually  a  conviction  which  startled  me 
even  far  more  than  the  coincidence.  I  began  distinctly, 
positively,  to  remember  that  there  had  been  no  drawing 
upon  the  parchment  when  I  made  my  sketch  of  the  sca- 
rabcBus.  I  became  perfectly  certain  of  this  ;  for  I  recol- 
lected turning  up  first  one  side  and  then  the  other,  in 
search  of  the  cleanest  spot.  Had  the  skull  been  there 
then,  of  course  I  could  not  have  failed  to  notice  it. 
Here  was  indeed  a  mystery  which  I  felt  it  impossible  to 
explain  ;  but,  even  at  that  early  moment,  there  seemed 
to  glimmer,  faintly,  within  the  most  remote  and  secret 
chambers  of  my  intellect,  a  glowworm-like  conception  of 
that  truth  which  last  night's  adventure  brought  to  so  mag- 
nificent a  demonstration.  I  arose  at  once,  and  putting 
the  parchment  securely  away,  dismissed  all  further  reflec- 
tion until  I  should  be  alone. 

"  When  you  had  gone,  and  when  Jupiter  was  fast  asleep, 
I  betook  myself  to  a  more  methodical  investigation  of  the 
affair.  In  the  first  place  I  considered  the  manner  in 
which  the  parchment  had  come  into  my  possession.  The 
spot  where  we  discovered  the  scarabceus  was  on  the  coast 
of  the  mainland,  about  a  mile  eastward  of  the  island,  and 
but  a  short  distance  above  high-water  mark.  Upon  my  tak- 
ing hold  of  it,  it  gave  me  a  sharp  bite,  which  caused  me 


The  Gold-Bug  269 

to  let  it  drop.  Jupiter,  with  his  accustomed  caution,  be- 
fore seizing  the  insect,  which  had  flown  towards  hina, 
looked  about  him  for  a  leaf,  or  something  of  that  nature, 
by  which  to  take  hold  of  it.  It  was  at  this  moment  that 
his  eyes,  and  mine  also,  fell  upon  the  scrap  of  parchment, 
which  I  then  supposed  to  be  paper.  It  was  lying  half  buried 
in  the  sand,  a  corner  sticking  up.  Near  the  spot  where 
we  found  it,  I  observed  the  remnants  of  the  hull  of  what 
appeared  to  have  been  a  ship's  long-boat.  The  wreck 
seemed  to  have  been  there  for  a  very  great  while  ;  for  the 
resemblance  to  boat  timbers  could  scarcely  be  traced. 

"  Well,  Jupiter  picked  up  the  parchment,  wrapped  the 
beetle  in  it,  and  gave  it  to  me.  Soon  afterwards  we 
turned  to   go   home,  and   on  the  way  met   Lieutenant 

G .     I  showed  him  the  insect,  and  he  begged  me  to 

let  him  take  it  to  the  fort.  Upon  my  consenting,  he 
thrust  it  forthwith  into  his  waistcoat-pocket,  without  the 
parchment  in  which  it  had  been  wrapped,  and  which  I 
had  continued  to  hold  in  my  hand  during  his  inspection. 
Perhaps  he  dreaded  my  changing  my  mind,  and  thought 
it  best  to  make  sure  of  the  prize  at  once, — you  know  how 
enthusiastic  he  is  on  all  subjects  connected  with  natural 
history.  At  the  same  time,  without  being  conscious  of  it, 
I  must  have  deposited  the  parchment  in  my  own  pocket. 

"  You  remember  that  when  I  went  to  the  table,  for  the 
purpose  of  making  a  sketch  of  the  beetle,  I  found  no 
paper  where  it  was  usually  kept.  I  looked  in  the  drawer, 
and  found  none  there.  I  searched  my  pockets,  hoping 
to  find  an  old  letter,  when  my  hand  fell  upon  the  parch- 
ment. I  thus  detail  the  precise  mode  in  which  it  came 
into  my  possession  ;  for  the  circumstances  impressed  me 
with  peculiar  force. 

"  No  doubt  you  will  think  me  fanciful,  —  but  I  had 
already  established  a  kind  of  connection.     I  had  put  tO' 


270  Greatest  Short  Stones 

gether  two  links  of  a  great  chain.  There  was  a  boat 
lying  upon  a  sea-coast,  and  not  far  from  the  boat  was  a 
parchment  —  not  a  paper  —  with  a  skull  depicted  upon 
it.  You  will,  of  course,  ask  :  '  Where  is  the  connection  ?  ' 
I  reply  that  the  skull,  or  death's-head,  is  the  well-known 
emblem  of  the  pirate.  The  flag  of  the  death's-head  is 
hoisted  in  all  engagements. 

"  I  have  said  that  the  scrap  was  parchment,  and  not 
paper.  Parchment  is  durable,  —  almost  imperishable. 
Matters  of  little  moment  are  rarely  consigned  to  parch- 
ment ;  since,  for  the  mere  ordinary  purposes  of  drawing 
or  writing,  it  is  not  nearly  so  well  adapted  as  paper. 
This  reflection  suggested  some  meaning  —  some  rele- 
vancy —  in  the  death's-head.  I  did  not  fail  to  observe, 
also,  the  form  of  the  parchment.  Although  one  of  its 
corners  had  been,  by  some  accident,  destroyed,  it  could 
be  seen  that  the  original  form  was  oblong.  It  was  just 
such  a  slip,  indeed,  as  might  have  been  chosen  for  a 
memorandum,  —  for  a  record  of  something  to  be  long 
remembered  and  carefully  preserved." 

"  But,"  I  interposed,  you  say  that  the  skull  was  not 
upon  the  parchment  when  you  made  the  drawing  of  the 
beetle.  How  then  do  you  trace  any  connection  between 
the  boat  and  the  skull,  —  since  this  latter,  according  to 
your  own  admission,  must  have  been  designed  (God 
only  knows  how  or  by  whom)  at  some  period  subsequent 
to  your  sketching  the  scarabreus  ?  " 

"  Ah,  hereupon  turns  the  whole  mystery ;  although 
the  secret,  at  this  point,  I  had  comparatively  little  diffi- 
culty in  solving.  My  steps  were  sure,  and  could  afford 
but  a  single  result.  I  reasoned,  for  example,  thus : 
When  I  drew  the  scarabccus,  there  was  no  skull  apparent 
upon  the  parchment.  When  I  had  completed  the  draw- 
ing I  gave  it  to  you,  and  observed  you  narrowly  until 


The  Gold-Bug  271 

you  returned  it.  Von,  therefore,  did  not  design  the  skull, 
and  no  one  else  was  present  to  do  it.  Then  it  was  not 
done  by  human  agency.     And  nevertheless  it  was  done. 

"  At  this  stage  of  my  reflections  I  endeavored  to 
remember,  and  did  remember,  with  entire  distinctness, 
every  incident  which  occurred  about  the  period  in  ques- 
tion. The  weather  was  chilly  (O  rare  and  happy  acci- 
dent !),  and  a  fire  was  blazing  upon  the  hearth.  I  was 
heated  with  exercise,  and  sat  near  the  table.  You,  how- 
ever, had  drawn  a  chair  close  to  the  chimney.  Just  as 
I  placed  the  parchment  in  your  hand,  and  as  you  were 
in  the  act  of  inspecting  it.  Wolf,  the  Newfoundland, 
entered,  and  leaped  upon  your  shoulders.  With  your 
left  hand  you  caressed  him  and  kept  him  off,  while  your 
right,  holding  the  parchment,  was  permitted  to  fall  list- 
lessly between  your  knees,  and  in  close  proximity  to  the 
fire.  At  one  moment  I  thought  the  blaze  had  caught  it, 
and  was  about  to  caution  you,  but,  before  I  could  speak, 
you  had  withdrawn  it,  and  were  engaged  in  its  examina- 
tion. When  I  considered  all  these  particulars,  I  doubted 
not  for  a  moment  that  /lea/  had  been  the  agent  in  bring- 
ing to  light,  upon  the  parchment,  the  skull  which  I  saw 
designed  upon  it.  You  are  well  aware  that  chemical 
preparations  exist,  and  have  existed  time  out  of  mind, 
by  means  of  which  it  is  possible  to  write  upon  either 
paper  or  vellum,  so  that  the  characters  shall  become 
visible  only  when  subjected  to  the  action  of  fire.  Zaffre, 
digested  in  a^ua  regia,  and  diluted  with  four  times  its 
weight  of  water,  is  sometimes  employed ;  a  green  tint 
results.  The  regulus  of  cobalt,  dissolved  in  spirit  of  nitre, 
gives  a  red.  These  colors  disappear  at  longer  or  shorter 
intervals  after  the  material  written  upon  cools,  but  again 
become  apparent  upon  the  re-application  of  heat. 

"  I  now  scrutinized  the  death's-head  with  care.     Its 


272  Greatest  Short  Stories 

outer  edges  —  the  edges  of  the  drawing  nearest  the  edgv 
of  the  vellum  —  were  far  more  distinct  than  the  others. 
It  was  clear  that  the  action  of  the  caloric  had  been  im- 
perfect or  unequal.  I  immediately  kindled  a  fire,  and 
subjected  every  portion  of  the  parchment  to  a  glowing 
heat.  At  first,  the  only  effect  was  the  strengthening  of 
the  faint  lines  in  the  skull ;  but,  upon  persevering  in  the 
experiment,  there  became  visible,  at  the  corner  of  the 
slip,  diagonally  opposite  to  the  spot  in  which  the  death's- 
head  was  delineated,  the  figure  of  what  I  at  first  sup- 
posed to  be  a  goat.  A  closer  scrutiny,  however,  satisfied 
me  that  it  was  intended  for  a  kid." 

"Ha!  ha!"  said  I,  "to  be  sure  I  have  no  right  to 
laugh  at  you,  —  a  million  and  a  half  of  money  is  too 
serious  a  matter  for  mirth,  —  but  you  are  not  about  to 
establish  a  third  link  in  your  chain,  —  you  will  not  find 
any  especial  connection  between  your  pirates  and  a  goat, 
—  pirates,  you  know,  have  nothing  to  do  with  goats ; 
they  appertain  to  the  farming  interest." 

"  But  I  have  just  said  that  the  figure  was  not  that  of  a 
goat." 

"  Well,  a  kid  then,  —  pretty  much  the  same  thing." 

"  Pretty  much,  but  not  altogether,"  said  Legrand. 
"  You  may  have  heard  of  one  Captain  Kidd.  I  at  once 
looked  upon  the  figure  of  the  animal  as  a  kind  of  pun- 
ning or  hieroglyphical  signature.  I  say  signature,  because 
its  position  upon  the  vellum  suggested  this  idea.  The 
death's-head  at  the  corner  diagonally  opposite  had,  in 
the  same  manner,  the  air  of  a  stamp,  or  seal.  But  I  was 
sorely  put  out  by  the  absence  of  all  else  —  of  the  body  to 
my  imagined  instrument  —  of  the  text  for  my  context." 

"  I  presume  you  expected  to  find  a  letter  between  the 
stamp  and  the  signature." 

"  Something  of  that  kind.     The  fact  is,  I  felt  irresisti- 


The  Gold-Bug  273 

bly  impressed  with  a  presentiment  of  some  vast  good-for- 
tune impending.  I  can  scarcely  say  why.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  it  was  rather  a  desire  than  an  actual  belief;  —  but  do 
you  know  that  Jupiter's  silly  words,  about  the  bug  being 
of  solid  gold,  had  a  remarkable  effect  upon  my  fancy? 
And  then  the  series  of  accidents  and  coincidences,  — 
these  were  so  very  extraordinary.  Do  you  observe  how 
mere  an  accident  it  was  that  these  events  should  have 
occurred  upon  the  sole  day  of  all  the  year  in  which  it  has 
been,  or  may  be,  sufficiently  cool  for  fire,  and  that  with- 
out the  fire,  or  without  the  intervention  of  the  dog  at  the 
precise  moment  in  which  he  appeared,  I  should  never 
have  become  aware  of  the  death's-head,  and  so  never 
the  possessor  of  the  treasure?  " 

"  But  proceed,  —  I  am  all  impatience." 

"  Well ;  you  have  heard,  of  course,  the  many  stories 
current  —  the  thousand  vague  rumors  afloat  about  money 
buried,  somewhere  upon  the  Atlantic  coast,  by  Kidd  and 
his  associates.  These  rumors  must  have  had  some  foun- 
dation in  fact.  And  that  the  rumors  have  existed  so 
long  and  so  continuously  could  have  resulted,  it  appeared 
to  me,  only  from  the  circumstance  of  the  buried  treasure 
still  remaining  entombed.  Had  Kidd  concealed  his 
plunder  for  a  time,  and  afterwards  reclaimed  it,  the 
rumors  would  scarcely  have  reached  us  in  their  present 
unvarying  form.  You  will  observe  that  the  stories  told 
are  all  about  money-seekers,  not  about  money-finders. 
Had  the  pirate  recovered  his  money,  there  the  affair 
would  have  dropped.  It  seemed  to  me  that  some  acci- 
dent —  say  the  loss  of  a  memorandum  indicating  its 
locality  —  had  deprived  him  of  the  means  of  recovering  it, 
and  that  this  accident  had  become  known  to  his  followers, 
who  otherwise  might  never  have  heard  that  treasure  had 
been  concealed  at  all,  and  who,  busying  themselves  in 

iS 


274  Greatest  Short  Stories 

vain,  because  unguided,  attempts  to  regain  it,  had  given 
first  birth,  and  then  universal  currency,  to  the  reports 
which  are  now  so  common.  Have  you  ever  heard  of  any 
important  treasure  being  unearthed  along  the  coast?  " 

"  Never." 

"  But  that  Kidd's  accumulations  were  immense,  is 
well  known.  I  took  it  for  granted,  therefore,  that  the 
earth  still  held  them  ;  and  you  will  scarcely  be  surprised 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  felt  a  hope,  nearly  amounting  to 
certainty,  that  the  parchment  so  strangely  found  involved 
a  lost  record  of  the  place  of  deposit." 

"  But  how  did  you  proceed?  " 

"  I  held  the  vellum  again  to  the  fire,  after  increasing 
the  heat ;  but  nothing  appeared.  I  now  thought  it 
possible  that  the  coating  of  dirt  might  have  something  to 
do  with  the  failure ;  so  I  carefully  rinsed  the  parchment 
by  pouring  warm  water  over  it,  and,  having  done  this, 
I  placed  it  in  a  tin  pan,  with  the  skull  downwards, 
and  put  the  pan  upon  a  furnace  of  hghted  charcoal. 
In  a  few  minutes,  the  pan  having  become  thoroughly 
heated,  I  removed  the  slip,  and,  to  my  inexpressible  joy, 
found  it  spotted,  in  several  places,  with  what  appeared 
to  be  figures  arranged  in  lines.  Again  I  placed  it  in  the 
pan,  and  suffered  it  to  remain  another  minute.  Upon 
taking  it  off,  the  whole  was  just  as  you  see  it  now." 

Here  Legrand,  having  re-heated  the  parchment,  sub- 
mitted it  to  my  inspection.  The  following  characters 
were  rudely  traced,  in  a  red  tint,  between  the  death's- 
head  and  the  goat : 

S3nt305))6*;4826)4j.)4t);8o6*;48t81l6o))85;it 

(;:t*8t83(88)5*t;46(;88*96*?;8)n(;485);5*t2:n(; 
4956*2  (5*-4)8*|i8*;4o69285);)6t8)4n;i(:9;48o8i 

;8:8Ji;48t85;4)485t5288o6*8i(|9;48;8)8;4(t?34;48) 
4j;i6i;:i88;t?; 


The  Gold-Bug  275 

"  But,"  said  I,  returning  him  the  slip,  "  I  am  as  much 
in  the  dark  as  ever.  Were  all  the  jewels  of  Golconda 
awaiting  me  upon  my  solution  of  this  enigma,  I  am  quite 
siire  that  I  should  be  unable  to  earn  them." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Legrand,  "  the  solution  is  by  no 
means  so  difficult  as  you  might  be  led  to  imagine  from  the 
first  hasty  inspection  of  the  characters.  These  characters, 
as  any  one  might  readily  guess,  form  a  cipher  —  that  is 
to  say,  they  convey  a  meaning ;  but  then,  from  what  is 
known  of  Kidd,  I  could  not  suppose  him  capable  of  con- 
structing any  of  the  more  abstruse  cryptographs.  I  made 
up  my  mind,  at  once,  that  this  was  of  a  simple  species,  — 
such,  however,  as  would  appear,  to  the  crude  intellect  of 
the  sailor,  absolutely  insoluble  without  the  key." 

"  And  you  really  solved  it?  " 

"  Readily  ;  I  have  solved  others  of  an  abstruseness  ten 
thousand  times  greater.  Circumstances,  and  a  certain 
bias  of  mind,  have  led  me  to  take  interest  in  such  riddles, 
and  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  human  ingenuity 
can  construct  an  enigma  of  the  kind  which  human  in- 
genuity may  not,  by  proper  application,  resolve.  In  fact, 
having  once  established  connected  and  legible  characters, 
I  scarcely  gave  a  thought  to  the  mere  difficulty  of  devel- 
oping their  import. 

"  In  the  present  case,  —  indeed  in  all  cases  of  secret 
writing,  —  the  first  question  regards  the  language  of  the 
cipher ;  for  the  principles  of  solution,  so  far,  especially, 
as  the  more  simple  ciphers  are  concerned,  depend  upon, 
and  are  varied  by,  the  genius  of  the  particular  idiom. 
In  general,  there  is  no  alternative  but  experiment  (di- 
rected by  probabilities)  of  every  tongue  known  to  him 
who  attempts  the  solution,  until  the  true  one  be  attained. 
But,  with  the  cipher  now  before  us,  all  difficulty  was 
removed  by  the   signature.     The   pun   upon   the  word 


276 


Greatest  Short  Stories 


'  Kidd  '  is  appreciable  in  no  other  language  than  the 
English.  But  for  this  consideration  I  should  have  begun 
my  attempts  with  the  Spanish  and  French,  as  the  tongues 
in  which  a  secret  of  this  kind  would  most  naturally  have 
been  written  by  a  pirate  of  the  Spanish  main.  As  it  was, 
I  assumed  the  cryptograph  to  be  English. 

"  You  observe  there  are  no  divisions  between  the 
words.  Had  there  been  divisions,  the  task  would  have 
been  comparatively  easy.  In  such  case  I  should  have 
commenced  with  a  collation  and  analysis  of  the  shorter 
words,  and,  had  a  word  of  a  single  letter  occurred,  as  is 
most  likely  («  or  /,  for  example),  I  should  have  considered 
the  solution  as  assured.  But,  there  being  no  division, 
my  first  step  was  to  ascertain  the  predominant  letters,  as 
well  as  the  least  frequent.  Counting  all,  I  constructed 
a  table,  thus  : 


Of  the  character  8  there  are 

33' 

} 

(( 

26. 

4 

(t 

19. 

X) 

11 

16. 

* 

(C 

13- 

5 

K 

12. 

6 

<( 

II. 

t  I 

t< 

8. 

0 

<f 

6. 

9  2 

C( 

5. 

■3 

<( 

4. 

? 

(( 

3- 

f 

(( 

2. 

—  . 

(( 

I. 

•*  Now,  in  English,  the  letter  which  most  frequently 
occurs  is  (f.     Afterwards,  the  succession  runs  thus  :   aoi 


The  Gold-Bug  277 

dh  n  r s  tuy  cfgl m  w  b  k p  qxz.  E  predominates  so  re- 
markably, that  an  individual  sentence  of  any  length  is 
rarely  seen  in  which  it  is  not  the  prevailing  character. 

"Here,  then,  we  have,  in  the  very  beginning,  the 
groundwork  for  something  more  than  a  mere  guess. 
The  general  use  which  may  be  made  of  the  table  is 
obvious ;  but,  in  this  particular  cipher,  we  shall  only  very 
partially  require  its  aid.  As  our  predominant  character 
is  8,  we  will  commence  by  assuming  it  as  the  e  of  the 
natural  alphabet.  To  verify  the  supposition,  let  us  ob- 
serve if  the  8  be  seen  often  in  couples,  —  for  e  is  doubled 
with  great  frequency  in  English,  —  in  such  words,  for 
example,  as  'meet,'  'fleet,'  'speed,'  'seen,'  'been,' 
'  agree,'  etc.  In  the  present  instance  we  see  it  doubled 
no  less  than  five  times,  although  the  cryptograph  is 
brief. 

"  Let  us  assume  8,  then,  as  e.  Now,  of  all  words  in 
the  language,  '  the  '  is  most  usual ;  let  us  see,  therefore, 
whether  there  are  not  repetitions  of  any  three  characters, 
in  the  same  order  of  collocation,  the  last  of  them  being 
8.  If  we  discover  repetitions  of  such  letters,  so  arranged, 
they  will  most  probably  represent  the  word  '  the.'  Upon 
inspection,  we  find  no  less  than  seven  such  arrangements, 
the  characters  being  ;48.  We  may,  therefore,  assume 
that  ;  represents  t,  4  represents  h,  and  8  represents  e, 
—  the  last  being  now  well  confirmed.  Thus  a  great 
step   has  been  taken. 

"  But,  having  established  a  single  word,  we  are  enabled 
to  establish  a  vastly  important  point  j  that  is  to  say, 
several  commencements  and  terminations  of  other 
words.  Let  us  refer,  for  example,  to  the  last  instance 
but  one,  in  which  the  combination  ;48  occurs,  —  not 
far  from  the  end  of  the  cipher.  We  know  that  the  ; 
immediately  ensuing  is  the  commencement  of  a  word. 


2  7^  Greatest  Short  Stories 

and,  of  the  six  characters  succeeding  this  '  the,'  we  are 
cognizant  of  no  less  than  five.  Let  us  set  these  charac- 
ters down,  thus,  by  the  letters  we  know  them  to  repre- 
sent, leaving  a  space  for  the  unknown  — 

t  eeth. 

"  Here  we  are  enabled,  at  once,  to  discard  the  th,  as 
forming  no  portion  of  the  word  commencing  with  the 
first  /,•  since,  by  experiment  of  the  entire  alphabet  for  a 
letter  adapted  to  the  vacancy,  we  perceive  that  no  word 
can  be  formed  of  which  this  th  can  be  a  part.  We  are 
thus  narrowed  into 

t  ee, 

and,  going  through  the  alphabet,  if  necessary,  as  before, 
we  arrive  at  the  word  *  tree,'  as  the  sole  possible  read- 
ing. We  thus  gain  another  letter,  r,  represented  by  (, 
with  the  words  '  the  tree  '  in  juxtaposition. 

"  Looking  beyond  these  words,  for  a  short  distance, 
we  again  see  the  combination  ;48,  and  employ  it  by 
way  of  termijiation  to  what  immediately  precedes.  We 
have  thus  this  arrangement : 

the  tree  ;4(J  ?34  the, 

or,  substituting  the  natural  letters,  where  known,  it  reads 
thus  : 

the  tree  thrj  ?3h  the. 

"  Now,  if,  in  place  of  the  unknown  characters,  we 
leave  blank  spaces,  or  substitute  dots,  we  read  thus : 

the  tree  thr...h  the, 


The  Gold-Bug  279 

when  the  word  *  through  '  makes  itself  evident  at  once. 
But  this  discovery  gives  us  three  new  letters,  o,  u,  and  g^ 
represented  by  |,  ?,  and  3. 

"  Looking,  now,  narrowly,  through  the  cipher  for 
combinations  of  known  characters,  we  find,  not  very  far 
from  the  beginning,  this  arrangement, 

83(88,  or  egree, 

which,  plainly,  is  the  conclusion  of  the  word  '  degree,' 
and  gives  us  another  letter  d,  represented  by  f. 

"  Four  letters  beyond  the  word  '  degree,'  we  perceive 
the  combination 

;46(;88*. 

"  Translating  the  known  characters,  and  representing 
the  unknown  by  dots,  as  before,  we  read  thus  : 

th.rtee., 

an  arrangement  immediately  suggestive  of  the  word 
'thirteen,'  and  again  furnishing  us  with  two  new  charac- 
ters, /  and  n,  represented  by  6  and  *. 

"  Referring,  now,  to  the  beginning  of  the  crypto- 
graph, we  find   the  combination, 

53nt. 

"Translating,  as  before,  we  obtain 
•good, 

which  assures  us  that  the  first  letter  is  A,  and  that  the 
first  two  words  are  '  A  good.' 

"  It  is  now  time  that  we  arrange  our  key,  as  far  as 


28o  Greatest  Short  Stories 


discovered,  in   a 

tabular 

form, 

to  avoid  confusion. 

It 

will  stand  thus  : 

5  re 

t 

presents  a 
d 

8 

e 

3 

4 

g 
h 

6 

i 

« 

n 

t 

o 

( 
? 

r 
t 
u 

"  We  have,  therefore,  no  less  than  eleven  of  the  most 
important  letters  represented,  and  it  will  be  unnecessary 
to  proceed  with  the  details  of  the  solution.  I  have  said 
enough  to  convince  you  that  ciphers  of  this  nature  are 
readily  soluble,  and  to  give  you  some  insight  into  the 
1-aiionale  of  their  development.  But  be  assured  that 
the  specimen  before  us  appertains  to  the  very  simplest 
species  of  cryptograph.  It  now  only  remains  to  give 
you  the  full  translation  of  the  characters  upon  the  parch- 
ment, as  unriddled.     Here  it  is  : 

"  *  A  good  glass  in  the  bishof  s  hostel  in  the  dcviVs 
seat  forty-one  degrees  afid  thirtee7t  miiiuies  northeast  and 
by  north  main  branch  seventh  limb  east  side  shoot  from 
the  left  eye  of  the  death' s-head  a  bee  line  from  tlic  tree 
through  the  shot  fifty  feet  outJ  " 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  the  enigma  seems  still  in  as  bad  a 
condition  as  ever.  How  is  it  possible  to  extort  a  mean- 
ing from  all  this  jargon  about  '  devil's  seats,'  *  death's- 
heads,'  and  'bishop's  hotels'?" 


The  Gold-Bug  281 

"  I  confess,"  replied  Legrand,  "  that  the  matter  still 
wears  a  serious  aspect,  when  regarded  with  a  casual 
glance.  My  first  endeavor  was  to  divide  the  sentence 
into  the  natural  division  intended  by  the  crypto- 
graphist." 

"  You  mean,  to  punctuate  it?  " 

"  Something  of  that  kind." 

"  But  how  was  it  possible  to  effect  this?  " 

"  I  reflected  that  it  had  been  a  point  with  the  writer 
to  run  his  words  together  without  division,  so  as  to 
increase  the  difficulty  of  solution.  Now,  a  not  over- 
acute  man,  in  pursuing  such  an  object,  would  be  nearly 
certain  to  overdo  the  matter.  When,  in  the  course  of 
his  composition,  he  arrived  at  a  break  in  his  subject 
which  would  naturally  require  a  pause,  or  a  point,  he 
would  be  exceedingly  apt  to  run  his  characters,  at  this 
place,  more  than  usually  close  together.  If  you  will 
observe  the  manuscript  in  the  present  instance,  you  will 
easily  detect  five  such  cases  of  unusual  crowding.  Act- 
ing upon  this  hint,  I  made  the  division  thus  : 

"  '  A  good  glass  in  the  bishop's  hostel  in  the  devils' 
seat  — forty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes  —  northeast 
and  by  north  —  main  branch  seventh  limb  east  side  — 
shoot  from  the  left  eye  of  the  death's-head —  a  bee-line 
from  the  tree  through  the  shot  fifty  feet  out.'  " 

"  Even  this  division,"  said  I,  "  leaves  me  still  in  the 
dark." 

"  It  left  me  also  in  the  dark,"  replied  Legrand,  "  for 
a  few  days ;  during  which  I  made  diligent  inquiry,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Sullivan's  Island,  for  any  building 
which  went  by  the  name  of  the  '  Bishop's  Hotel '  ;  for, 
of  course,  I  dropped  the  obsolete  word  '  hostel.'     Gain- 


2S2  Greatest  Short  Stories 

iug  no  information  on  the  subject,  I  was  on  the  point  of 
extenciing  my  sphere  of  search,  and  proceeding  in  a 
more  systematic  manner,  when,  one  morning,  it  entered 
into  my  head,  quite  suddenly,  that  this  *  Bishop's  Hos- 
tel '  might  have  some  reference  to  an  old  family,  of  the 
name  of  Bessop,  which,  time  out  of  mind,  had  held 
possession  of  an  ancient  manor-house,  about  four  miles 
to  the  northward  of  the  island.  I  accordingly  went  over 
to  the  plantation,  and  reinstituted  my  inquiries  among 
the  older  negroes  of  the  place.  At  length  one  of  the 
most  aged  of  the  women  said  that  she  had  heard  of 
such  a  place  as  Bessofs  Castle,  and  thought  that  she 
could  guide  me  to  it,  but  that  it  was  not  a  castle,  nor  a 
tavern,  but  a  high  rock. 

"  I  offered  to  pay  her  well  for  her  trouble,  and,  after 
some  demur,  she  consented  to  accompany  me  to  the 
spot.  We  found  it  without  much  difficulty,  when,  dis- 
missing her,  I  proceeded  to  examine  the  place.  The 
'  castle  '  consisted  of  an  irregular  assemblage  of  cliffs 
and  rocks,  —  one  of  the  latter  being  quite  remarkable 
for  its  height  as  well  as  for  its  insulated  and  artificial 
appearance.  I  clambered  to  its  apex,  and  then  felt 
much  at  a  loss  as  to  what  should  be  next  done. 

"  While  I  was  busied  in  reflection,  my  eyes  fell  upon 
a  narrow  ledge  in  the  eastern  face  of  the  rock,  perhaps 
a  yard  below  the  summit  upon  which  I  stood.  This 
ledge  projected  about  eighteen  inches,  and  was  not  more 
than  a  foot  wide,  while  a  niche  in  the  cliff  just  above  it 
gave  it  a  rude  resemblance  to  one  of  the  hollow-backed 
chairs  used  by  our  ancestors.  I  made  no  doubt  that 
here  was  the  '  devil's  seat '  alluded  to  in  the  manuscript, 
and  now  I  seemed  to  grasp  the  whole  secret. 

"The  'good  glass,'  I  knew,  could  have  reference  to 
nothing  but  a  telescope ;  for  the  word  *  glass  '  is  rarely 


The  Gold-Bug  283 

employed  in  any  other  sense  by  seamen.  Now  here. 
I  at  once  saw,  was  a  telescope  to  be  used,  and  a  definite 
point  of  view,  admittitig  no  variation,  from  which  to  use 
it.  Nor  did  I  hesitate  to  believe  that  the  phrases, 
*  forty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes,'  and  '  northeast 
and  by  north,'  were  intended  as  directions  for  the 
levelling  of  the  glass.  Greatly  excited  by  these  dis- 
coveries, I  hurried  home,  procured  a  telescope,  and 
returned  to  the  rock. 

"  I  let  myself  down  to  the  ledge,  and  found  that  it 
was  impossible  to  retain  a  seat  upon  it  except  in  one 
particular  position.  This  fact  confirmed  my  precon- 
ceived idea.  I  proceeded  to  use  the  glass.  Of  course, 
the  '  forty-one  degrees  and  thirteen  minutes '  could 
allude  to  nothing  but  elevation  above  the  visible  horizon, 
since  the  horizontal  direction  was  clearly  indicated  by 
the  words,  '  northeast  and  by  north.'  This  latter  direc- 
tion I  at  once  established  by  means  of  a  pocket-com- 
pass ;  then,  pointing  the  glass  as  nearly  at  an  angle 
of  forty-one  degrees  of  elevation  as  I  could  do  it  by 
guess,  I  moved  it  cautiously  up  or  down,  until  my  atten- 
tion was  arrested  by  a  circular  rift  or  opening  in  the 
foliage  of  a  large  tree  that  overtopped  its  fellows  in  the 
distance.  In  the  centre  of  this  rift  I  perceived  a  white 
spot,  but  could  not,  at  first,  distinguish  what  it  was. 
Adjusting  the  focus  of  the  telescope,  I  again  looked,  and 
now  made  it  out  to  be  a  human  skull. 

"  Upon  this  discovery  I  was  so  sanguine  as  to  con- 
sider the  enigma  solved  ;  for  the  phrase,  '  main  branch, 
seventh  limb,  east  side,'  could  refer  only  to  the  position 
of  the  skull  upon  the  tree,  while  *  shoot  from  the  left  eye 
of  the  death's-head  '  admitted,  also,  of  but  one  interpre- 
tation, in  regard  to  a  search  for  buried  treasure.  I  per- 
ceived that    the   design  was    to  drop  a  bullet  from  the 


284  Greatest  Short  Stories 

left  eye  of  tlie  skull,  and  that  a  bee-line,  or,  in  other 
words,  a  straight  line,  drawn  from  the  nearest  point  of 
the  trunk  through  '  the  shot '  (or  the  spot  where  the 
bullet  fell),  and  thence  extended  to  a  distance  of  fifty 
feet,  would  indicate  a  definite  point,  —  and  beneath  this 
point  I  thought  it  at  least  possible  that  a  deposit  of  value 
lay  concealed." 

"  All  this,"  I  said,  "  is  exceedingly  clear,  and,  although 
ingenious,  still  simple  and  explicit.  When  you  left  the 
'Bishop's  Hotel,'  what  then?" 

"  Why,  having  carefully  taken  the  bearings  of  the 
tree,  I  turned  homewards.  The  instant  that  I  left  *  the 
devil's  seat,'  however,  the  circular  rift  vanished,  nor 
could  I  get  a  glimpse  of  it  afterwards,  turn  as  I  would. 
What  seems  to  me  the  chief  ingenuity  in  this  whole 
business  is  the  fact  (for  repeated  experiment  has  con- 
vinced me  it  is  a  fact)  that  the  circular  opening  in 
question  is  visible  from  no  other  attainable  point  of  view 
than  that  afforded  by  the  narrow  ledge  upon  the  face  of 
the  rock. 

"  In  this  expedition  to  the  '  Bishop's  Hotel '  I  had 
been  attended  by  Jupiter,  who  had,  no  doubt,  observed, 
for  some  weeks  past,  the  abstraction  of  my  demeanor, 
and  took  especial  care  not  to  leave  me  alone.  But,  on 
the  next  day,  getting  up  very  early,  I  contrived  to  give 
him  the  slip,  and  went  into  the  hills  in  search  of  the 
tree.  After  much  toil  I  found  it.  When  I  came  home 
at  night  my  valet  proposed  to  give  me  a  flogging.  With 
the  rest  of  the  adventure  I  believe  you  are  as  well  ac- 
quainted as  myself." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  I,  "  you  missed  the  spot,  in  the 
first  attempt  at  digging,  through  Jupiter's  stupidity  in 
letting  the  bug  fall  through  the  right  instead  of  through 
the  left  eye  of  the  skull." 


The  Gold-Bug  285 

"  Precisely.  This  mistake  made  a  difference  of  about 
two  inches  and  a  half  in  '  the  shot '  —  that  is  to  say,  in 
the  position  of  the  peg  nearest  the  tree  ;  and  had  the 
treasure  been  beneath  '  the  shot,'  the  error  would  have 
been  of  little  moment ;  but  '  the  shot,'  together  with  the 
nearest  point  of  the  tree,  were  merely  two  points  for  the 
estabUshment  of  a  line  of  direction  ;  of  course  the  error, 
however  trivial  in  the  beginning,  increased  as  we  pro- 
ceeded with  the  line,  and  by  the  time  we  had  gone  fifty 
feet  threw  us  quite  off  the  scent.  But  for  my  deep- 
seated  impressions  that  treasure  was  here  somewhere 
actually  buried,  we  might  have  had  all  our  labor  in 
vain." 

"  But  your  grandiloquence,  and  your  conduct  in  swing- 
ing the  beetle,  —  how  excessively  odd  !  I  was  sure  you 
were  mad.  And  why  did  you  insist  upon  letting  fall  the 
bug,  instead  of  a  bullet,  from  the  skull?  " 

"  Why,  to  be  frank,  I  felt  somewhat  annoyed  by  your 
evident  suspicions  touching  my  sanity,  and  so  resolved  to 
punish  you  quietly,  in  my  own  way,  by  a  little  bit  of  sober 
mystification.  For  this  reason  I  swung  the  beetle,  and 
for  this  reason  I  let  it  fall  from  the  tree.  An  observa- 
tion of  yours  about  its  great  weight  suggested  the  latter 
idea." 

"  Yes,  I  perceive ;  and  now  there  is  only  one  point 
which  puzzles  me.  What  are  we  to  make  of  the  skele- 
tons found  in  the  hole  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  question  I  am  no  more  able  to  answer  than 
yourself.  There  seems,  however,  only  one  plausible  way 
of  accounting  for  them,  —  and  yet  it  is  dreadful  to  be- 
lieve in  such  atrocity  as  my  suggestion  would  imply.  It 
is  clear  that  Kidd,  —  if  Kidd  indeed  secreted  this 
treasure,  which  I  doubt  not,  —  it  is  clear  that  he  must 
have  had  assistance  in  the  labor.     But,  this  labor  con- 


286  Greatest  Short  Stones 

eluded,  he  may  have  thought  it  expedient  to  remove 
all  participants  in  his  secret.  Perhaps  a  couple  of  blows 
with  a  mattock  were  sufficient,  while  his  coadjutors  were 
busy  in  the  pit ;  perhaps  it  required  a  dozen,  —  who  shall 
tell?" 


IX 

THE  GREAT  STONE  FACE 


THE    GREAT    STONE    FACE 

By  NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE 

INTRODUCTORY 

THE    MORAL   ELEMENT 

POE  was  a  purely  intellectual  being,  and  his 
stories  are  stories  of  the  intellect.  As 
such  they  are  masterpieces,  but  no  doubt 
their  lack  of  moral  significance  is  the  one  thing 
which  has  done  most  to  blight  the  author's 
fame.  The  element  which  Poe  lacked  we  find 
in  supreme  perfection  in  Hawthorne,  who  also 
was  a  conscious  artist  in  the  writing  of  short 
stories.  These  two  men  were  contemporaries, 
and  appreciated  each  the  work  of  the  other,  but 
it  would  appear  that  neither  influenced  the  other 
in  any  way  whatever.  The  era  of  the  short  story 
was  ripe,  and  the  times  produced  two  great  short 
story  writers  at  the  same  season  and  in  the  same 
country. 

About  the  only  thing  resembling  the  short  story 
in  ancient  times  was  the  fable.  That  was  an  ex- 
tremely short  tale  with  an  extremely  obvious 
moral;  indeed,  the  moral  was  about  all  there  was 
to  it.       Until  the   time   of   Hawthorne,   the   fable 

19 


290  Greatest  Short  Stories 

seems  to  have  entered  but  slightly  into  the  prog- 
ress of  the  short  story;  but  he  took  it  up  and 
made  it  the  keynote  of  nearly  all  he  wrote.  His 
stories  are  all  intended  to  illustrate  a  moral  of  some 
kind,  just  as  Poe's  were  intended  to  illustrate  an 
intellectual  principle  or  problem. 

We  have  already  referred  to  the  influence  of 
the  ballad  and  song  on  the  short  story,  and  have 
spoken  of  them  as  the  source  of  the  sentiment  in 
Dickens.  Hawthorne  was  to  add  to  the  short  story 
also  an  element  from  the  lyric  and  the  poetic  tale 
(so  closely  akin  to  the  ballad  and  song),  namely, 
beauty.  Hawthorne  even  went  further,  and  ap- 
propriated characteristics  of  the  painter  and  the 
sculptor.  A  short  story  as  Hawthorne  tells  it  is  a 
perfect  canvas.  The  subject  is  arranged  with  a 
view  to  light  and  shade,  and  it  is  treated  with  per- 
fect sense  of  color.  Every  line  is  a  line  of  beauty, 
and  the  atmosphere  is  ethereal  and  aesthetic.  In 
"  The  Great  Stone  Face "  we  also  see  the  same 
lofty  sentiment  that  we  found  in  Dickens,  the  same 
intimate  treatment  of  that  which,  but  for  fiction, 
must  remain  forever  hidden  from  the  world's  eye, 
and  the  same  succession  of  emotion  following  upon 
emotion.  Poetry  has  always  been  apt  in  blending 
the  noble  and  lofty  in  moral  sentiment  with  the 
element  of  beauty  ;  and  in  Hawthorne  we  find  the 
ancient  fable  clothed  most  naturally  and  grace- 
fully with  the  poet's  clouds  of  fancy  and  splendor 
of  color.  Had  Hawthorne  possessed  also  Poe's 
masterful  intellect,  he  would  no  doubt  have  proved 


."^k         A         The  Great  Stone  Face  291 

'  to  be  the  supreme  genius  of  the  short  story.     Poe,   \  \* 
./we  shall  find,  has  had  many  successorSj  but  tiaw-^^A' 

Hthornenone.  '^/►/«  lP»    i^^'-*^'*^^^  A^:v 

^i  ;      THE  GREAT  STONE  FACE.   ^ .^ 

1^    -'/^NE  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was    going    down,  aS',. .'J 
V^     mother  and  her  little  boy  sat  at  the  door  of  their 

.  cottage,  talking  about  the  Great  Stone  Face.  They  had 
but  to  lift  their  eyes,  and  there  it  was  plainly  to  be  seen, 
though  miles  away,  with  the  sunshine  brightening  all  its 

•    features. 

And  what  was  the  Great  Stone  Face? 
Embosomed  amongst  a  family  of  lofty  mountains,  there 
was  a  valley  so  spacious  that  it  contained  many  thousand 
inhabitants.  Some  of  these  good  people  dwelt  in  log- 
huts,  with  the  black  forest  all  around  them,  on  the  steep 
and  difficult  hillsides.  Others  had  their  homes  in  com- 
fortable farm-houses,  and  cultivated  the  rich  soil  on  the 
gentle  slopes  or  level  surfaces  of  the  valley.  Others, 
again,  were  congregated  into  populous  villages,  where 
some  wild,  highland  rivulet,  tumbling  down  from  its  birth- 
place in  the  upper  mountain  region,  had  been  caught 
and  tamed  by  human  cunning,  and  compelled  to  turn  the 
machinery  of  cotton-factories.  The  inhabitants  of  this 
valley,  in  short,  were  numerous,  and  of  many  modes  of  life. 
But  all  of  them,  grown  people  and  children,  had  a  kind 
of  familiarity  with  the  Great  Stone  Face,  although  some 
possessed  the  gift  of  distinguishing  this  grand  natural 
phenomenon  more  perfectly  than  many  of  their  neighbors. 
The  Great  Stone  Face,  then,  was  a  work  of  Nature  in 
her  mood  of  majestic  playfulness,  formed  on  the  perpen- 
dicular side  of  a  mountain  by  some  immense  rocks,  which 
had  been  thrown  together  in  such  a  position  as,  when 


292  Greatest  Short  Stories 

viewed  at  a  proper  distance,  precisely  to  resemble  the 
features  uf  the  human  countenance.  It  seemed  as  if  an 
enormous  giant,  or  a  Titan,  had  sculptured  his  own  like- 
ness on  the  precipice.  There  was  the  broad  arch  of  the 
forehead,  a  hundred  feet  in  height ;  the  nose,  with  its  long 
bridge  ;  and  the  vast  lips,  which,  if  they  could  have  spoken, 
would  have  rolled  their  thunder  accents  from  one  end  of 
the  valley  to  the  other.  True  it  is,  that  if  the  spectator 
approached  too  near,  he  lost  the  outline  of  the  gigantic 
visage,  and  could  discern  only  a  heap  of  ponderous  and 
gigantic  rocks,  piled  in  chaotic  ruin  one  upon  another. 
Retracing  his  steps,  however,  the  wondrous  features 
would  again  be  seen ;  and  the  farther  he  withdrew  from 
them,  the  more  like  a  human  face,  with  all  its  original 
divinity  intact,  did  they  appear ;  until,  as  it  grew  dim  in 
the  distance,  with  the  clouds  and  glorified  vapor  of  the 
mountains  clustering  about  it,  the  Great  Stone  Face 
seemed  positively  to  be  alive. 

It  was  a  happy  lot  for  children  to  grow  up  to  man- 
hood or  womanhood  with  the  Great  Stone  Face  before 
their  eyes,  for  all  the  features  were  noble,  and  the  ex- 
pression was  at  once  grand  and  sweet,  as  if  it  were  the 
glow  of  a  vast,  warm  heart,  that  embraced  all  mankind  in 
its  affections,  and  had  room  for  more.  It  was  an  education 
only  to  look  at  it.  According  to  the  belief  of  many  peo- 
ple, the  valley  owed  much  of  its  fertility  to  this  benign 
aspect  that  was  continually  beaming  over  it,  illuminat- 
ing the  clouds,  and  infusing  its  tenderness  into  the  sun- 
shine. 

As  we  began  with  saying,  a  mother  and  her  little  boy 
sat  at  their  cottage-door,  gazing  at  the  Great  Stone  Face, 
and  talking  about  it.     The  child's  name  was  Ernest. 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  while  the  Titanic  visage  smiled  on 
him,  "  I  wish  that  it  could  speak,  for  it  looks  so  very 


The  Great  Stone  Face  293 

kindly  that  its  voice  must  needs  be  pleasant.  If  I 
were  to  see  a  man  witli  such  a  face,  I  should  love  him 
dearly." 

"  If  an  old  prophecy  should  come  to  pass,"  answered 
his  mother,  "  we  may  see  a  man,  some  time  or  other,  with 
exactly  such  a  face  as  that." 

"  What  prophecy  do  you  mean,  dear  mother?  "  eagerly 
inquired  Ernest.     "  Pray  tell  me  all  about  it !  " 

So  his  mother  told  him  a  story  that  her  own  mother 
had  told  to  her,  when  she  herself  was  younger  than  little 
Ernest ;  a  story,  not  of  things  that  were  past,  but  of  what 
was  yet  to  come ;  a  story,  nevertheless,  so  very  old,  that 
even  the  Indians,  who  formerly  inhabited  this  valley,  had 
heard  it  from  their  forefathers,  to  whom,  as  they  affirmed, 
it  had  been  murmured  by  the  mountain  streams,  and 
whispered  by  the  wind  among  the  tree-tops.  The  pur- 
port was,  that,  at  some  future  day,  a  child  should  be  born 
hereabouts,  who  was  destined  to  become  the  greatest  and 
noblest  personage  of  his  time,  and  whose  countenance,  in 
manhood,  should  bear  an  exact  resemblance  to  the  Great 
Stone  Face.  Not  a  few  old-fashioned  people,  and  young 
ones  likewise,  in  the  ardor  of  their  hopes,  still  cherished 
an  enduring  faith  in  this  old  prophecy.  But  others,  who 
had  seen  more  of  the  world,  had  watched  and  waited  till 
they  were  weary,  and  had  beheld  no  man  with  such  a  face, 
nor  any  man  that  proved  to  be  much  greater  or  nobler 
than  his  neighbors,  concluded  it  to  be  nothing  but  an  idle 
tale.  At  all  events,  the  great  man  of  the  prophecy  had 
not  yet  appeared. 

"  O  mother,  dear  mother  !  "  cried  Ernest,  clapping  his 
hands  above  his  head,  "  I  do  hope  that  I  shall  live  to  see 
him  !  " 

His  mother  was  an  affectionate  and  thoughtful  woman, 
and  felt  that  it  was  wisest  not  to  discourage  the  generous 


294  Greatest  Sliort  Stories 

hopes  of  her  little  boy.     So  slie  only  said  to  him,  "  Per- 
haps you  may." 

And  Ernest  never  forgot  the  story  that  his  mother  told 
him.  It  was  always  in  his  mind,  whenever  he  looked 
upon  the  Great  Stone  Face.  He  spent  his  childhood  in 
the  log-cottage  where  he  was  born,  and  was  dutiful  to 
his  mother,  and  helpful  to  her  in  many  things,  assisting 
her  much  with  his  little  hands,  and  more  with  his  loving 
heart.  In  this  manner,  from  a  happy  yet  often  pensive 
child,  he  grew  up  to  be  a  mild,  quiet,  unobtrusive  boy, 
and  sun-browned  with  labor  in  the  fields,  but  with  more 
intelligence  brightening  his  aspect  than  is  seen  in  many 
lads  who  have  been  taught  at  famous  schools.  Yet 
Ernest  had  had  no  teacher,  save  only  that  the  Great 
Stone  Face  became  one  to  him.  When  the  toil  of  the 
day  was  over,  he  would  gaze  at  it  for  hours,  until  he 
began  to  imagine  that  those  vast  features  recognized 
him,  and  gave  him  a  smile  of  kindness  and  encourage- 
ment, responsive  to  his  own  look  of  veneration.  We 
must  not  take  upon  us  to  afifirm  that  this  was  a  mistake, 
although  the  Face  may  have  looked  no  more  kindly  at 
Ernest  than  at  all  the  world  besides.  But  the  secret  was, 
that  the  boy's  tender  and  confiding  simplicity  discerned 
what  other  people  could  not  see  ;  and  thus  the  love,  which 
was  meant  for  all,  became  his  peculiar  portion. 

About  this  time,  there  went  a  rumor  throughout  the 
valley,  that  the  great  man,  foretold  from  ages  long  ago, 
who  was  to  bear  a  resemblance  to  the  Great  Stone  Face, 
had  appeared  at  last.  It  seems  that,  many  years  before, 
a  young  man  had  migrated  from  the  valley  and  settled  at 
a  distant  seaport,  where,  after  getting  together  a  little 
money,  he  had  setup  as  a  shopkeeper.  His  name  —  but 
I  could  never  learn  whether  it  was  his  real  one,  or  a 
nickname  that  had  grown  out  of  his  habits  and  success 


The  Great  Stone  Face  295 

in  life  —  was  Gathergold.  Being  shrewd  and  active, 
and  endowed  by  Providence  with  that  inscrutable  faculty 
which  develops  itself  in  what  the  world  calls  luck,  he  be- 
came an  exceedingly  rich  merchant,  and  owner  of  a  whole 
fleet  of  bulky-bottomed  ships.  All  the  countries  of  the 
globe  appeared  to  join  hands  for  the  mere  purpose  of 
adding  heap  after  heap  to  the  mountainous  accumulation 
of  this  one  man's  wealth.  The  cold  regions  of  the  north, 
almost  within  the  gloom  and  shadow  of  the  Arctic  Circle, 
sent  him  their  tribute  in  the  shape  of  furs  ;  hot  Africa 
sifted  for  him  the  golden  sands  of  her  rivers,  and  gathered 
up  the  ivory  tusks  of  her  great  elephants  out  of  the  for- 
ests ;  the  East  came  bringing  him  the  rich  shawls,  and 
spices,  and  teas,  and  tlie  effulgence  of  diamonds,  and  the 
gleaming  purity  of  large  pearls ;  the  ocean,  not  to  be 
behindhand  with  the  earth,  yielding  up  her  mighty  whales, 
that  Mr.  Gathergold  might  sell  their  oil,  and  make  a 
profit  on  it.  Be  the  original  commodity  what  it  might, 
it  was  gold  within  his  grasp.  It  might  be  said  of  him, 
as  of  Midas  in  the  fable,  that  whatever  he  touched  with 
his  finger  immediately  glistened,  and  grew  yellow,  and 
was  changed  at  once  into  sterling  metal,  or,  which  suited 
him  still  better,  into  piles  of  coin.  And,  when  Mr.  Gath- 
ergold had  become  so  very  rich  that  it  would  have  taken 
him  a  hundred  years  only  to  count  his  wealth,  he  be- 
thought himself  of  his  native  valley,  and  resolved  to  go 
back  thither,  and  end  his  days  where  he  was  born.  With 
this  purpose  in  view,  he  sent  a  skilful  architect  to  build 
him  such  a  palace  as  should  be  fit  for  a  man  of  his  vast 
wealth  to  live  in. 

As  I  have  said  above,  it  had  already  been  rumored  in 
the  valley  that  Mr.  Gathergold  had  turned  out  to  be  the 
prophetic  personage  so  long  and  vainly  looked  for,  and 
that  his  visage  was  the  perfect  and  undeniable  similitude* 


296  Greatest  Short  Stories 

of  the  Great  Stone  Face.  People  were  the  more  ready 
to  believe  that  this  must  needs  be  the  fact,  when  they  be- 
held the  splendid  edifice  that  rose,  as  if  by  enchantment, 
on  the  site  of  his  father's  old  weather-beaten  farm-house. 
The  exterior  was  of  marble,  so  dazzlingly  white  that  it 
seemed  as  though  the  whole  structure  might  melt  away 
in  the  sunshine,  like  those  humbler  ones  which  Mr.  Gath- 
ergold,  in  his  young  play-days,  before  his  fingers  were 
gifted  with  the  touch  of  transmutation,  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  build  of  snow.  It  had  a  richly  ornamented 
portico,  supported  by  tall  pillars,  beneath  which  was  a 
lofty  door,  studded  with  silver  knobs,  and  made  of  a  kind 
of  variegated  wood  that  had  been  brought  from  beyond 
the  sea.  The  windows,  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling  of 
each  stately  apartment,  were  composed,  respectively,  of 
but  one  enormous  pane  of  glass,  so  transparently  pure 
that  it  was  said  to  be  a  finer  medium  than  even  the  va- 
cant atmosphere.  Hardly  anybody  had  been  permitted 
to  see  the  interior  of  this  palace  ;  but  it  was  reported, 
and  with  good  semblance  of  truth,  to  be  far  more  gor- 
geous than  the  outside,  insomuch  that  whatever  was  iron 
or  brass  in  other  houses  was  silver  or  gold  in  this ;  and 
Mr,  Gathergold's  bedchamber,  especially,  made  such  a 
glittering  appearance  that  no  ordinary  man  would  have 
been  able  to  close  his  eyes  there.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  Mr.  Gathergold  was  now  so  inured  to  wealth,  that 
perhaps  he  could  not  have  closed  his  eyes  unless  where 
the  gleam  of  it  was  certain  to  find  its  way  beneath  his 
eyelids. 

In  due  time,  the  mansion  was  finished  ;  next  came  the 
upholsterers,  with  magnificent  furniture  ;  then,  a  whole 
troop  of  black  and  white  servants,  the  harbingers  of  Mr. 
Gathergold,  who,  in  his  own  majestic  person,  was  ex- 
pected to  arrive  at  sunset.     Our  friend  Ernest,  mean- 


The  Great  Stone  Face  297 

while,  had  been  deeply  stirred  by  the  idea  that  the  great 
man,  the  noble  man,  the  man  of  prophecy,  after  so  many 
ages  of  delay,  was  at  length  to  be  made  manifest  to  his 
native  valley.  He  knew,  boy  as  he  was,  that  there  were 
a  thousand  ways  in  which  Mr.  Gathergold,  with  his  vast 
wealth,  might  transform  himself  into  an  angel  of  benefi- 
cence, and  assume  a  control  over  human  affairs  as  wide 
and  benignant  as  the  smile  of  the  Great  Stone  Face. 
Full  of  faith  and  hope,  Ernest  doubted  not  that  what  the 
people  said  was  true,  and  that  now  he  was  to  behold  the 
living  likeness  of  those  wondrous  features  on  the  moun- 
tain-side. While  the  boy  was  still  gazing  up  the  valley, 
and  fancying,  as  he  always  did,  that  the  Great  Stone 
Face  returned  his  gaze  and  looked  kindly  at  him,  the 
rumbling  of  wheels  was  heard,  approaching  swiftly  along 
the  winding  road. 

"  Here  he  comes  !  "  cried  a  group  of  people  who  were 
assembled  to  witness  the  arrival.  "  Here  comes  the 
great  Mr.  Gathergold  !  " 

A  carriage,  drawn  by  four  horses,  dashed  round  the 
turn  of  the  road.  Within  it,  thrust  partly  out  of  the 
window,  appeared  the  physiognomy  of  a  little  old  man, 
with  a  skin  as  yellow  as  if  his  own  Midas- hand  had 
transmuted  it.  He  had  a  low  forehead,  small,  sharp 
eyes,  puckered  about  with  innumerable  wrinkles,  and 
very  thin  lips,  which  he  made  still  thinner  by  pressing 
them  forcibly  together. 

"  The  very  image  of  the  Great  Stone  Face  !  "  shouted 
the  people.  "  Sure  enough,  the  old  prophecy  is  true ; 
and  here  we  have  the  great  man  come,  at  last  !  " 

And,  what  greatly  perplexed  Ernest,  they  seemed  act- 
ually to  believe  that  here  was  the  likeness  which  they 
spoke  of.  By  the  roadside  there  chanced  to  be  an  old 
beggar-woman  and  two  little  beggar-children,  stragglers 


298  Greatest  Short  Stories 

from  some  far-off  region,  who,  as  the  carriage  rolled  on- 
ward, held  out  their  hands  and  lifted  up  their  doleful 
voices,  most  piteously  beseeching  charity.  A  yellow  claw 
—  the  very  same  that  had  clawed  together  so  much 
wealth  —  poked  itself  out  of  the  coach-window,  and 
dropped  some  copper  coins  upon  the  ground  ;  so  that, 
though  the  great  man's  name  seems  to  have  been  Gath- 
ergold,  he  might  just  as  suitably  have  been  nicknamed 
Scattercopper.  Still,  nevertheless,  with  an  earnest  shout, 
and  evidently  with  as  much  good  faith  as  ever,  the  people 
bellowed,  — 

"  He  is  the  very  image  of  the  Great  Stone  Face  !  " 

But  Ernest  turned  sadly  from  the  wrinkled  shrewd- 
ness of  that  sordid  visage,  and  gazed  up  the  valley, 
where,  amid  a  gathering  mist,  gilded  by  the  last  sun- 
beams, he  could  still  distinguish  those  glorious  features 
which  had  impressed  themselves  into  his  soul.  Their 
aspect  cheered  him.  What  did  the  benign  lips  seem  to 
say? 

"  He  will  come  !  Fear  not,  Ernest ;  the  man  will 
come !  " 

The  years  went  on,  and  Ernest  ceased  to  be  a  boy. 
He  had  grown  to  be  a  young  man  now.  He  attracted 
little  notice  from  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  valley ;  for 
they  saw  nothing  remarkable  in  his  way  of  life,  save  that, 
when  the  labor  of  the  day  was  over,  he  still  loved  to  go 
apart  and  gaze  and  meditate  upon  the  Great  Stone  Face. 
According  to  their  idea  of  the  matter,  it  was  a  folly,  in- 
deed, but  pardonable,  inasmuch  as  Ernest  was  industri- 
ous, kind,  and  neighborly,  and  neglected  no  duty  for  the 
sake  of  indulging  this  idle  habit.  They  knew  not  that 
the  Great  Stone  Face  had  become  a  teacher  to  him,  and 
that  the  sentiment  which  was  expressed  in  it  would  enlarge 
the  young  man's  heart,  and  fill  it  with  wider  and  deeper 


The  Great  Stone  Face  299 

Isympathies  than  other  hearts.  They  knew  not  that  thence 
Iwould  come  a  better  wisdom  than  could  be  learned  from 
^books,  and  a  better  life  than  could  be  moulded  on  the 
defaced  example  of  other  human  lives.  Neither  did 
Ernest  know  that  the  thoughts  and  affections  which 
came  to  him  so  naturally,  in  the  fields  and  at  the  fire- 
side, and  wherever  he  communed  with  himself,  were  of 
a  higher  tone  than  those  which  all  men  shared  with  him. 
A  simple  soul,  —  simple  as  when  his  mother  first  taught 
him  the  old  prophecy,  —  he  beheld  the  marvellous  feat- 
ures beaming  adown  the  valley,  and  still  wondered 
that  their  human  counterpart  was  so  long  in  making  his 
appearance. 

By  this  time  poor  Mr.  Gathergold  was  dead  and 
buried ;  and  the  oddest  part  of  the  matter  was,  that  his 
wealth,  which  was  the  body  and  spirit  of  his  existence, 
had  disappeared  before  his  death,  leaving  nothing  of  him 
but  a  living  skeleton,  covered  over  with  a  wrinkled,  yel- 
low skin.  Since  the  melting  away  of  his  gold,  it  had 
been  very  generally  conceded  that  there  was  no  such 
striking  resemblance,  after  all,  betwixt  the  ignoble  feat- 
ures of  the  ruined  merchant  and  that  majestic  face  upon 
tlie  mountain-side.  So  the  people  ceased  to  honor  him 
I  luring  his  lifetime,  and  quietly  consigned  him  to  forget- 
fulness  after  his  decease.  Once  in  a  while,  it  is  true, 
his  memory  was  brought  up  in  connection  with  the  mag- 
nificent palace  which  he  had  built,  and  which  had  long 
ago  been  turned  into  a  hotel  for  the  accommodation  of 
strangers,  multitudes  of  whom  came,  every  summer,  to 
visit  that  famous  natural  curiosity,  the  Great  Stone  Face. 
Thus,  Mr.  Gathergold  being  discredited  and  thrown  into 
the  shade,  the  man  of  prophecy  was  yet  to  come. 

It  so  happened  that  a  native-born  son  of  the  valley, 
many  years  before,  had  enlisted  as  a  soldier,  and,  after 


300  Greatest  Short  Stories 

a  great  deal  of  hard  fighting,  had  now  become  an  illus- 
trious commander.  Whatever  he  may  be  called  in  his- 
tory, he  was  known  in  camps  and  on  the  battle-field 
under  the  nickname  of  Old  Blood-and-Thunder.  This 
war-worn  veteran,  being  now  infirm  with  age  and  wounds, 
and  weary  of  the  turmoil  of  a  military  life,  and  of  the 
roll  of  the  drum  and  the  clangor  of  the  trumpet,  that  had 
so  long  been  ringing  in  his  ears,  had  lately  signified  a 
purpose  of  returning  to  his  native  valley,  hoping  to  find 
repose  where  he  remembered  to  have  left  it.  The  in- 
habitants, his  old  neighbors  and  their  grown-up  children, 
were  resolved  to  welcome  the  renowned  warrior  with  a 
salute  of  cannon  and  a  public  dinner ;  and  all  the  more 
enthusiastically,  it  being  affirmed  that  now,  at  last,  the 
likeness  of  the  Great  Stone  Face  had  actually  appeared. 
An  aid-de-camp  of  Old  Blood-and-Thunder,  travelling 
through  the  valley,  was  said  to  have  been  struck  with 
the  resemblance.  Moreover  the  schoolmates  and  early 
acquaintances  of  the  general  were  ready  to  testify,  on 
oath,  that,  to  the  best  of  their  recollection,  the  aforesaid 
general  had  been  exceedingly  like  the  majestic  image, 
even  when  a  boy,  only  that  the  idea  had  never  occurred 
to  them  at  that  period.  Great,  therefore,  was  the  excite- 
ment throughout  the  valley  ;  and  many  people,  who  had 
never  once  thought  of  glancing  at  the  Great  Stone  Face 
for  years  before,  now  spent  their  time  in  gazing  at  it,  for 
the  sake  of  knowing  exactly  how  General  Blood-and- 
Thunder  looked. 

On  the  day  of  the  great  festival,  Ernest,  with  all  the 
other  people  of  the  valley,  left  their  work,  and  proceeded 
to  the  spot  where  the  sylvan  banquet  was  prepared.  As 
he  approached,  the  loud  voice  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Battleblast 
was  heard,  beseeching  a  blessing  on  the  good  things  set 
before  them,  and  on  the  distinguished  friend  of  peace 


The  Great  Stone  Face  301 

in  whose  honor  they  were  assembled.  The  tables  were 
arranged  in  a  cleared  space  of  the  woods,  shut  in  by  the 
surrounding  trees,  except  where  a  vista  opened  eastward, 
and  afforded  a  distant  view  of  the  Great  Stone  Face. 
Over  the  general's  chair,  which  was  a  relic  from  the  home 
of  Washington,  there  was  an  arch  of  verdant  boughs,  with 
the  laurel  profusely  intermixed,  and  surmounted  by  his 
country's  banner,  beneath  which  he  had  won  his  victo- 
ries. Our  friend  Ernest  raised  himself  on  his  tiptoes, 
in  hopes  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  celebrated  guest ;  but 
there  was  a  mighty  crowd  about  the  tables  anxious  to 
hear  the  toasts  and  speeches,  and  to  catch  any  word 
that  might  fall  from  the  general  in  reply ;  and  a  volun- 
teer company,  doing  duty  as  a  guard,  pricked  ruthlessly 
with  their  bayonets  at  any  particularly  quiet  person  among 
the  throng.  So  Ernest,  being  of  an  unobtrusive  char- 
acter, was  thrust  quite  into  the  background,  where  he 
could  see  no  more  of  Old  Blood-and-Thunder's  physiog- 
nomy than  if  it  had  been  still  blazing  on  the  battle-field. 
To  console  himself,  he  turned  towards  the  Great  Stone 
Face,  which,  like  a  faithful  and  long-remembered  friend, 
looked  back  and  smiled  upon  him  through  the  vista  ot 
the  forest.  Meantime,  however,  he  could  overhear  the 
remarks  of  various  individuals,  who  were  comparing 
the  features  of  the  hero  with  the  face  on  the  distant 
mountain-side. 

"  'Tis  the  same  face,  to  a  hair  !  "  cried  one  man,  cut- 
ting a  caper  for  joy. 

"  Wonderfully  Uke,  tiiat  's  a  fact !  "  responded  another. 

"  Like  !  why,  I  call  it  Old  Blood-and-Thunder  him- 
self, in  a  monstrous  looking-glass  !  "  cried  a  third.  "  And 
why  not  ?  He  's  the  greatest  man  of  this  or  any  other 
age,  beyond  a  doubt." 

And  then  all  three  of  the  speakers  gave  a  great  shout, 


302  Greatest  Short  Stories 

which  communicatcil  electricity  to  the  crowd,  and  called 
forth  a  roar  from  a  thousand  voices,  that  went  reverber- 
ating for  miles  among  the  mountains,  until  you  might 
have  supposed  that  the  Great  Stone  Face  had  poured  its 
thunder-breath  into  the  cry.  All  these  comments,  and 
this  vast  enthusiasm,  served  the  more  to  interest  our 
friend  ;  nor  did  he  think  of  questioning  that  now,  at 
length,  the  mountain-visage  had  found  its  human  coun- 
terpart. It  is  true,  Ernest  had  imagined  that  this  long- 
looked-for  personage  would  appear  in  the  character  of 
a  man  of  peace,  uttering  wisdom,  and  doing  good,  and 
making  people  happy.  But,  taking  an  habitual  breadth 
of  view,  with  all  his  simplicity,  he  contended  that  Provi- 
dence should  choose  its  own  method  of  blessing  man- 
kind, and  could  conceive  that  this  great  end  might  be 
effected  even  by  a  warrior  and  a  bloody  sword,  shoukl 
inscrutable  wisdom  see  fit  to  order  matters  so. 

"The  general!  the  general!"  was  now  the  cry. 
"  Hush  !  silence  !  Old  Blood-and-Thunder  's  going  to 
make  a  speech." 

Even  so ;  for,  the  cloth  being  removed,  the  general's 
health  had  been  drunk  amid  shouts  of  applause,  and  he 
now  stood  upon  his  feet  to  thank  the  company.  Ernest 
saw  him.  There  he  was,  over  the  shoulders  of  the  crowd, 
from  the  two  glittering  epaulets  and  embroidered  collar 
upward,  beneath  the  arch  of  green  boughs  with  inter- 
twined laurel,  and  the  banner  drooping  as  if  to  shade 
his  brow  !  And  there,  too,  visible  in  the  same  glance, 
through  the  vista  of  the  forest,  appeared  the  Great  Stone 
Face  !  And  was  there,  indeed,  such  a  resemblance  as 
the  crowd  had  testified  ?  Alas,  Ernest  could  not  recog- 
nize it !  He  beheld  a  war-worn  and  weather-beaten 
countenance,  full  of  energy,  and  expressive  of  an  iron 
will;   but  the   gentle  wisdom,  the  deep,  broad,  tender 


The  Great  Stone   Face  303 

sympathies,  were  altogether  wanting  in  Old  Blood-and- 
Thunder's  visage ;  and  even  if  the  Great  Stone  Face  had 
assumed  his  look  of  stern  command,  the  milder  traits 
would   still  have  tempered  it. 

"  This  is  not  the  man  of  prophecy,"  sighed  Ernest,  to 
himself,  as  he  made  his  way  out  of  the  throng.  "  And 
must  the  world  wait  longer  yet?  " 

The  mists  had  congregated  about  the  distant  moun- 
tain-side, and  there  were  seen  the  grand  and  awful  fea- 
tures of  the  Great  Stone  Face,  awful  but  benignant,  as 
if  a  mighty  angel  were  sitting  among  the  hills,  and  en- 
robing himself  in  a  cloud-vesture  of  gold  and  purple. 
As  he  looked,  Ernest  could  hardly  believe  but  that  a 
smile  beamed  over  the  whole  visage,  with  a  radiance 
still  brightening,  although  without  motion  of  the  lips. 
It  was  probably  the  effect  of  the  western  sunshine,  melt- 
ing through  the  thinly  diffused  vapors  that  had  swept 
between  him  and  the  object  that  he  gazed  at.  But  — 
as  it  always  did  —  the  aspect  of  his  marvellous  friend 
made  Ernest  as  hopeful  as  if  he  had  never  hoped  in 
vain. 

"  Fear  not,  Ernest,"  said  his  heart,  even  as  if  the 
Great  Face  were  whispering  him,  —  "  fear  not,  Ernest ; 
he  will  come." 

More  years  sped  swiftly  and  tranquilly  away.  Ernest 
still  dwelt  in  his  native  valley,  and  was  now  a  man  of 
middle  age.  By  imperceptible  degrees,  he  had  become 
known  among  the  people.  Now,  as  heretofore,  he  la- 
bored for  his  bread,  and  was  the  same  simple-hearted 
man  that  he  had  always  been.  But  he  had  thought  and 
felt  so  much,  he  had  given  so  many  of  the  best  hours  of 
his  life  to  unworldly  hopes  for  some  great  good  to  man- 
kind, that  it  seemed  as  though  he  had  been  talking  with 
the  angels,  and  had  imbibed  a  portion  of  their  wisdom 


304  Greatest  Short  Stories 

unawares.  It  was  visible  in  the  calm  and  well-consid- 
ered beneficence  of  his  daily  life,  the  quiet  stream  of 
which  had  made  a  wide  green  margin  all  along  its  course. 
Not  a  day  passed  by,  that  the  world  was  not  the  better 
because  this  man,  humble  as  he  was,  had  lived.  He 
never  stepped  aside  from  his  own  path,  yet  would  always 
reach  a  blessing  to  his  neighbor.  Almost  involuntarily, 
too,  he  had  become  a  preacher.  The  pure  and  high 
simplicity  of  his  thought,  which,  as  one  of  its  manifesta- 
tions, took  shape  in  the  good  deeds  that  dropped  silently 
from  his  hand,  flowed  also  forth  in  speech.  He  uttered 
truths  that  wrought  upon  and  moulded  the  lives  of  those 
who  heard  him.  His  auditors,  it  may  be,  never  suspected 
that  Ernest,  their  own  neighbor  and  familiar  friend,  was 
more  than  an  ordinary  man ;  least  of  all  did  Ernest  him- 
self suspect  it ;  but,  inevitably  as  the  murmur  of  a  rivulet, 
came  thoughts  out  of  his  mouth  that  no  other  human  lips 
had  spoken. 

When  the  people's  minds  had  had  a  little  time  to 
cool,  they  were  ready  enough  to  acknowledge  their 
mistake  in  imagining  a  similarity  between  General  Blood- 
and-Thunder's  truculent  physiognomy  and  the  benign 
visage  on  the  mountain-side.  But  now,  again,  there 
were  reports  and  many  paragraphs  in  the  newspapers, 
afifirming  that  the  likeness  of  the  Great  Stone  Face  had 
appeared  upon  the  broad  shoulders  of  a  certain  emi- 
nent statesman.  He,  like  Mr.  Gathergold  and  Old  Blood- 
and-Thunder,  was  a  native  of  the  valley,  but  had  left  it 
in  his  early  days,  and  taken  up  the  trades  of  law  and 
politics.  Instead  of  the  rich  man's  wealth  and  the  war- 
rior's sword,  he  had  but  a  tongue,  and  it  was  mightier 
than  both  together.  So  wonderfully  eloquent  was  he, 
that  whatever  he  might  choose  to  say,  his  auditors  had 
no  choice  but  to  believe  him ;  wrong  looked  like  right, 


The  Great  Stone  Face  305 

and  right  like  wrong ;  for  when  it  pleased  him,  he  could 
make  a  kind  of  illuminated  fog  with  his  mere  breath, 
and  obscure  the  natural  daylight  with  it.  His  tongue, 
indeed,  was  a  magic  instrument :  sometimes  it  rumbled 
like  the  thunder ;  sometimes  it  warbled  like  the  sweetest 
music.  It  was  the  blast  of  war,  —  the  song  of  peace ; 
and  it  seemed  to  have  a  heart  in  it,  when  there  was  no 
such  matter.  In  good  truth,  he  was  a  wondrous  man; 
and  when  his  tongue  had  acquired  him  all  other  imagina- 
ble success,  —  when  it  had  been  heard  in  halls  of  state, 
and  in  the  courts  of  princes  and  potentates,  —  after  it 
had  made  him  known  all  over  the  world,  even  as  a  voice 
crying  from  shore  to  shore,  —  it  finally  persuaded  his 
countrymen  to  select  him  for  the  Presidency.  Before 
this  time,  —  indeed,  as  soon  as  he  began  to  grow  cele- 
brated, —  his  admirers  had  found  out  the  resemblance 
between  him  and  the  Great  Stone  Face  ;  and  so  much 
were  they  struck  by  it,  that  throughout  the  country  this 
distinguished  gentleman  was  known  by  the  name  of  Old 
Stony  Phiz.  The  phrase  was  considered  as  giving  a 
highly  favorable  aspect  to  his  political  prospects ;  for, 
as  is  likewise  the  case  with  the  Popedom,  nobody  ever 
becomes  President  without  taking  a  name  other  than  his 
own. 

While  his  friends  were  doing  their  best  to  make  him 
President,  Old  Stony  Phiz,  as  he  was  called,  set  out  on  a 
visit  to  the  valley  where  he  was  born.  Of  course,  he  had 
no  other  object  than  to  shake  hands  with  his  fellow- 
citizens,  and  neither  thought  nor  cared  about  any  effect 
which  his  progress  through  the  country  might  have  upon 
the  election.  Magnificent  preparations  were  made  to 
receive  the  illustrious  statesman ;  a  cavalcade  of  horse- 
men set  forth  to  meet  him  at  the  boundary  line  of  the 
State,  and  all  the  people  left  their  business  and  gathered 

ao 


3o6  Greatest  Short  Stories 

along  the  wayside  to  see  him  pass.  Among  these  was 
Ernest.  Though  more  than  once  disappointed,  as  we 
have  seen,  he  had  such  a  hopeful  and  confiding  nature, 
that  he  was  always  ready  to  believe  in  whatever  seemed 
beautiful  and  good.  He  kept  his  heart  continually  open, 
and  thus  was  sure  to  catch  the  blessing  from  on  high, 
when  it  should  come.  So  now  again,  as  buoyantly  as 
ever,  he  went  forth  to  behold  the  likeness  of  the  Great 
Stone  Face. 

The  cavalcade  came  prancing  along  the  road,  with  a 
great  clattering  of  hoofs  and  a  mighty  cloud  of  dust, 
which  rose  up  so  dense  and  high  that  the  visage  of  the 
mountain-side  was  completely  hidden  from  Ernest's  eyes. 
All  the  great  men  of  the  neighborhood  were  there  on 
horseback  :  militia  officers,  in  uniform  ;  the  member  of 
Congress  ;  the  sheriff  of  the  county  ;  the  editors  of  news- 
papers ;  and  many  a  farmer,  too,  had  mounted  his  pa- 
tient steed,  with  his  Sunday  coat  upon  his  back.  It 
really  was  a  very  brilliant  spectacle,  especially  as  there 
were  numerous  banners  flaunting  over  the  cavalcade,  on 
some  of  which  were  gorgeous  portraits  of  the  illustrious 
statesman  and  the  Great  Stone  Face,  smiling  familiarly 
at  one  another,  like  two  brothers.  If  the  pictures  were 
to  be  trusted,  the  mutual  resemblance,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, was  marvellous.  We  must  not  forget  to  mention 
that  there  was  a  band  of  music,  which  made  the  echoes 
of  the  mountains  ring  and  reverberate  with  the  loud 
triumph  of  its  strains ;  so  that  airy  and  soul-thrilling 
melodies  broke  out  among  all  the  heights  and  hollows, 
as  if  every  nook  of  his  native  valley  had  found  a  voice, 
to  welcome  the  distinguished  guest.  But  the  grandest 
efifect  was  when  the  far-off  mountain  precipice  flung 
back  the  music  ;  for  then  the  Great  Stone  Face  itself 
seemed   to  be   swelling  the  triumphant    chorus,   in  ac- 


The  Great  Stone  Face  307 

knowledgment  that,  at  length,  the  man  of  prophecy 
was  come. 

All  this  while  the  people  were  throwing  up  their  hats 
and  shouting,  with  enthusiasm  so  contagious  that  the 
heart  of  Ernest  kindled  up,  and  he  likewise  threw  up 
his  hat,  and  shouted,  as  loudly  as  the  loudest,  "  Huzza 
for  the  great  man  !  Huzza  for  Old  Stony  Phiz  !  "  But 
as  yet  he  had  not  seen  him. 

"  Here  he  is,  now  !  "  cried  those  who  stood  near  Er- 
nest. "There  !  There  !  Look  at  Old  Stony  Phiz  and 
then  at  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain,  and  see  if  they 
are  not  as  like  as  two  twin-brothers  !  " 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  gallant  array,  came  an  open 
barouche,  drawn  by  four  white  horses  ;  and  in  the  ba- 
rouche, with  his  massive  head  uncovered,  sat  the  illustri- 
ous statesman.  Old  Stony  Phiz  himself. 

"Confess  it,"  said  one  of  Ernest's  neighbors  to  him, 
"  the  Great  Stone  Face  has  met  its  match  at  last  !  " 

Now,  it  must  be  owned  that,  at  his  first  glimpse  of  the 
countenance  which  was  bowing  and  smiling  from  the 
barouche,  Ernest  did  fancy  that  there  was  a  resemblance 
between  it  and  the  old  familiar  face  upon  the  mountain- 
side. The  brow,  with  its  massive  depth  and  loftiness, 
and  all  the  other  features,  indeed,  were  boldly  and 
strongly  hewn,  as  if  in  emulation  of  a  more  than  heroic, 
of  a  Titanic  model.  But  the  sublimity  and  stateliness, 
the  grand  expression  of  a  divine  sympathy,  that  illumi- 
nated the  mountain  visage,  and  etherealized  its  ponder- 
ous granite  substance  into  spirit,  might  here  be  sought 
in  vain.  Something  had  been  originally  left  out,  or  had 
departed.  And  therefore  the  marvellously  gifted  states- 
man had  always  a  weary  gloom  in  the  deep  caverns  of 
his  eyes,  as  of  a  child  that  has  outgrown  its  playthings, 
or  a  man  of  mighty  faculties  and  little  aims,  whose  life, 


3o8  Greatest  Short  Stories 

with  all  its  high  performances,  was  vague  and  empty, 
because  no  high  purpose  had  endowed  it  with  reality. 

Still,  Ernest's  neighbor  was  thrusting  his  elbow  into 
his  side,  and  pressing  him  for  an  answer. 

"  Confess  !  confess  !  Is  not  he  the  very  picture  of 
your  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain?  " 

"  No ! "  said  Ernest,  bluntly,  "  I  see  little  or  no 
likeness." 

"  Then  so  much  the  worse  for  the  Great  Stone  Face  !  " 
answered  his  neighbor ;  and  again  he  set  up  a  shout  for 
Old  Stony  Phiz. 

But  Ernest  turned  away,  melancholy,  and  almost 
despondent :  for  this  was  the  saddest  of  his  disappoint- 
ments, to  behold  a  man  who  might  have  fulfilled  the 
prophecy,  and  had  not  willed  to  do  so.  Meantime,  the 
cavalcade,  the  banners,  the  music,  and  the  barouches 
swept  past  him,  with  the  vociferous  crowd  in  the  rear, 
leaving  the  dust  to  settle  down,  and  the  Great  Stone 
Face  to  be  revealed  again,  with  the  grandeur  that  it  had 
worn  for  untold  centuries. 

"  Lo,  here  I  am,  Ernest  !  "  the  benign  lips  seemed  to 
say.  "  I  have  waited  longer  than  thou,  and  am  not  yet 
weary.     Fear  not ;  the  man  will  come." 

The  years  hurried  onward,  treading  in  their  haste  on 
one  another's  heels.  And  now  they  began  to  bring 
white  hairs,  and  scatter  them  over  the  head  of  Ernest ; 
they  made  reverend  wrinkles  across  his  forehead,  and 
furrows  in  his  cheeks.  He  was  an  aged  man.  But  not 
in  vain  had  he  grown  old  :  more  than  the  white  hairs  on 
his  head  were  the  sage  thoughts  in  his  mind  ;  his  wrinkles 
and  furrows  were  inscriptions  that  Time  had  graved,  and 
in  which  he  had  written  legends  of  wisdom  that  had  been 
tested  by  the  tenor  of  a  life.  And  Ernest  had  ceased 
to  be  obscure.     Unsought  for,  undesired,  had  come  the 


The  Great  Stone  Face  309 

fame  which  so  many  seek,  and  made  him  known  in  the 
great  world,  beyond  the  limits  of  the  valley  in  which 
he  had  dwelt  so  quietly.  College  professors,  and  even 
the  active  men  of  cities,  came  from  far  to  see  and  con- 
verse with  Ernest ;  for  the  report  had  gone  abroad  that 
this  simple  husbandman  had  ideas  unlike  those  of  other 
men,  not  gained  from  books,  but  of  a  higher  tone,  —  a 
tranquil  and  familiar  majesty,  as  if  he  had  been  talking 
with  the  angels  as  his  daily  friends.  Whether  it  were 
sage,  statesman,  or  philanthropist,  Ernest  received  these 
visitors  with  the  gentle  sincerity  that  had  characterized 
him  from  boyhood,  and  spoke  freely  with  them  of  what- 
ever came  uppermost,  or  lay  deepest  in  his  heart  or 
their  own.  While  they  talked  together,  his  face  would 
kindle,  unawares,  and  shine  upon  them,  as  with  a  mild 
evening  hght.  Pensive  with  the  fulness  of  such  dis- 
course, his  guests  took  leave  and  went  their  way ;  and 
passing  up  the  valley,  paused  to  look  at  the  Great  Stone 
Face,  imagining  that  they  had  seen  its  likeness  in  a 
human  countenance,  but  could  not  remember  where. 

While  Ernest  had  been  growing  up  and  growing  old, 
a  bountiful  Providence  had  granted  a  new  poet  to  this 
earth.  He,  likewise,  was  a  native  of  the  valley,  but  had 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  at  a  distance  from  that 
romantic  region,  pouring  out  his  sweet  music  amid  the 
bustle  and  din  of  cities.  Often,  however,  did  the  moun- 
tains which  had  been  familiar  to  him  in  his  childhood 
lift  their  snowy  peaks  into  the  clear  atmosphere  of  his 
poetry.  Neither  was  the  Great  Stone  Face  forgotten, 
for  the  poet  had  celebrated  it  in  an  ode,  which  was 
grand  enough  to  have  been  uttered  by  its  own  majestic 
lips.  This  man  of  genius,  we  may  say,  had  come  down 
from  heaven  with  wonderful  endowments.  If  he  sang 
of  a  mountain,  the  eyes  of  all  mankind  beheld  a  mightier 


3IO  Greatest  Short  Stories 

grandeur  reposing  on  its  breast,  or  soaring  to  its  summit, 
than  had  before  been  seen  there.  If  his  theme  were  a 
lovely  lake,  a  celestial  smile  had  now  been  thrown  over 
it,  to  gleam  forever  on  its  surface.  If  it  were  the  vast 
old  sea,  even  the  deep  immensity  of  its  dread  bosom 
seemed  to  swell  the  higher,  as  if  moved  by  the  emotions 
of  the  song.  Thus  the  world  assumed  another  and  a 
better  aspect  from  the  hour  that  the  poet  blessed  it  with 
his  happy  eyes.  The  Creator  had  bestowed  him,  as  the 
last  best  touch  to  his  own  handiwork.  Creation  was 
not  finished  till  the  poet  came  to  interpret,  and  so  com- 
plete it. 

The  effect  was  no  less  high  and  beautiful,  when  his 
human  brethren  were  the  subject  of  his  verse.  The  man 
or  woman,  sordid  with  the  common  dust  of  life,  who 
crossed  his  daily  path,  and  the  little  child  who  played  in 
it,  were  glorified  if  he  beheld  them  in  his  mood  of  poetic 
faith.  He  showed  the  golden  links  of  the  great  chain 
that  intertwined  them  with  an  angelic  kindred ;  he 
brought  out  the  hidden  traits  of  a  celestial  birth  that 
made  them  worthy  of  such  kin.  Some,  indeed,  there 
were,  who  thought  to  show  the  soundness  of  their  judg- 
ment by  affirming  that  all  the  beauty  and  dignity  of  the 
natural  world  existed  only  in  the  poet's  fancy.  Let  such 
men  speak  for  themselves,  who  undoubtedly  appear  to 
have  been  spawned  forth  by  Nature  with  a  contemptuous 
bitterness ;  she  having  plastered  them  up  out  of  her 
refuse  stuff,  after  all  the  swine  were  made.  As  respects 
all  things  else,  the  poet's  ideal  was  the  truest  truth. 

The  songs  of  this  poet  found  their  way  to  Ernest.  He 
read  them  after  his  customary  toil,  seated  on  the  bench 
before  his  cottage-door,  where  for  such  a  length  of  time 
he  had  filled  his  repose  with  thought,  by  gazing  at  the 
Great  Stone   Face.     And   now  as  he  read  stanzas  that 


The  Great  Stone  Face  311 

caused  the  soul  to  thrill  within  him,  he  lifted  his  eyes 
to  the  vast  countenance  beaming  on  him  so  benignantly. 

"  O  majestic  friend,"  he  murmured,  addressing  the 
Great  Stone  Face,  "  is  not  this  man  worthy  to  resemble 
thee?" 

The  Face  seemed  to  smile,  but  answered  not  a  word. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  poet,  though  he  dwelt  so 
far  away,  had  not  only  heard  of  Ernest,  but  had  medi- 
tated much  upon  his  character,  until  he  deemed  nothing 
so  desirable  as  to  meet  this  man,  whose  untaught  wis- 
dom walked  hand  in  hand  with  the  noble  simplicity  of 
his  life.  One  summer  morning,  therefore,  he  took  pas- 
sage by  the  railroad,  and,  in  the  decline  of  the  afternoon, 
alighted  from  the  cars  at  no  great  distance  from  Ernest's 
cottage.  The  great  hotel,  which  had  formerly  been  the 
palace  of  Mr.  Gathergold,  was  close  at  hand,  but  the 
poet,  with  his  carpet-bag  on  his  arm,  inquired  at  once 
where  Ernest  dwelt,  and  was  resolved  to  be  accepted 
as  his  guest. 

Approaching  the  door,  he  there  found  the  good  old 
man,  holding  a  volume  in  his  hand,  which  alternately  he 
read,  and  then,  with  a  finger  between  the  leaves,  looked 
lovingly  at  the  Great  Stone  Face. 

"Good  evening,"  said  the  poet.  "Can  you  give  a 
traveller  a  night's  lodging?" 

"  Willingly,"  answered  Ernest ;  and  then  he  added, 
smiling,  "  Methinks  I  never  saw  the  Great  Stone  Face 
look  so  hospitably  at  a  stranger." 

The  poet  sat  down  on  the  bench  beside  him,  and  he 
and  Ernest  talked  together.  Often  had  the  poet  held 
intercourse  with  the  wittiest  and  the  wisest,  but  never 
before  with  a  man  like  Ernest,  whose  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings gushed  up  with  such  a  natural  freedom,  and  who 
made  great  truths  so  familiar  by  his  simple  utterance  of 


312  Greatest  Short  Stories 

them.  Angels,  as  had  been  so  often  said,  seemed  to 
have  wrought  with  liim  at  his  labor  in  the  fields;  angels 
seemed  to  have  sat  with  him  by  the  fireside  ;  and,  dwell- 
ing with  angels  as  friend  with  friends,  he  had  imbibed 
the  sublimity  of  their  ideas,  and  imbued  it  with  the  sweet 
and  lowly  charm  of  household  words.  So  thought  the 
poet.  And  Ernest,  on  the  other  hand,  was  moved  and 
agitated  by  the  living  images  which  the  poet  flung  out 
of  his  mind,  and  which  peopled  all  the  air  about  the 
cottage-door  with  shapes  of  beauty,  both  gay  and  pensive. 
The  sympathies  of  these  two  men  instructed  them  with 
a  profounder  sense  than  either  could  have  attained  alone. 
Their  minds  accorded  into  one  strain,  and  made  delight- 
ful music  which  neither  of  them  could  have  claimed  as 
all  his  owm,  nor  distinguished  his  own  share  from  the 
other's.  They  led  one  another,  as  it  were,  into  a  high 
pavilion  of  their  thoughts,  so  remote,  and  hitherto  so 
dim,  that  they  had  never  entered  it  before,  and  so  beau- 
tiful that  they  desired  to  be  there  always. 

As  Ernest  listened  to  the  poet,  he  imagined  that  the 
Great  Stone  Face  was  bending  forward  to  listen  too. 
He  gazed  earnestly  into  the  poet's  glowing  eyes. 

"  Who  are  you,  my  strangely  gifted  guest  ?  "  he  said. 

The  poet  laid  his  finger  on  the  volume  that  Ernest 
had  been  reading. 

"  You  have  read  these  poems,"  said  he.  "  You  know 
me,  then,  —  for  I  wrote  them." 

Again,  and  still  more  earnestly  than  before,  Ernest 
examined  the  poet's  features ;  then  turned  towards  the 
Great  Stone  Face ;  then  back,  with  an  uncertain  aspect, 
to  his  guest.  But  his  countenance  fell ;  he  shook  his 
head,  and  sighed. 

"  Wherefore  are  you  sad?  "  inquired  the  poet. 

"  Because,"  replied  Ernest,  *'  all  through  life  I  have 


The  Great  Stone  Face  313 

awaited  the  fulfilment  of  a  prophecy ;  and,  when  I  read 
these  poems,  I  hoped  that  it  might  be  fulfilled  in  you." 

"  You  hoped,"  answered  the  poet,  faintly  smiling,  "  to 
find  in  me  the  likeness  of  the  Great  Stone  Face.  And 
you  are  disappointed,  as  formerly  with  Mr.  Gathergold, 
and  Old  Blood-and-Thunder,  and  Old  Stony  Phiz.  Yes, 
Ernest,  it  is  my  doom.  You  must  add  my  name  to  the 
illustrious  three,  and  record  another  failure  of  your 
hopes.  For  —  in  shame  and  sadness  do  I  speak  it, 
Ernest  —  I  am  not  worthy  to  be  typified  by  yonder 
benign  and  majestic  image." 

"And  why?"  asked  Ernest.  He  pointed  to  the 
volume.     "Are  not  those  thoughts  divine?" 

"They  have  a  strain  of  the  Divinity,"  repUed  the 
poet.  "  You  can  hear  in  them  the  far-off  echo  of  a 
heavenly  song.  But  my  life,  dear  Ernest,  has  not  cor- 
responded with  my  thought.  I  have  had  grand  dreams, 
but  they  have  been  only  dreams,  because  I  have  lived 
—  and  that,  too,  by  my  own  choice — among  poor  and 
mean  realities.  Sometimes  even  —  shall  I  dare  to  say 
it? —  I  lack  faith  in  the  grandeur,  the  beauty,  and  the 
goodness,  which  my  own  works  are  said  to  have  made 
more  evident  in  nature  and  in  human  life.  Why,  then, 
pure  seeker  of  the  good  and  true,  shouldst  thou  hope  to 
find  me,  in  yonder  image  of  the  divine  ?  " 

The  poet  spoke  sadly,  and  his  eyes  were  dim  with 
tears.     So,  likewise,  were  those   of  Ernest. 

At  the  hour  of  sunset,  as  had  long  been  his  frequent 
custom,  Ernest  was  to  discourse  to  an  assemblage  of  the 
neighboring  inhabitants  in  the  open  air.  He  and  the 
poet,  arm  in  arm,  still  talking  together  as  they  went 
along,  proceeded  to  the  spot.  It  was  a  small  nook 
among  the  hills,  with  a  gray  precipice  behind,  the  stern 
front  of  which  was  relieved  by  the  pleasant  foliage  of 


314  Greatest  Short  Stories 

many  creeping  plants,  that  made  a  tapestry  for  the 
naked  rock,  by  hanging  their  festoons  from  all  its  rugged 
angles.  At  a  small  elevation  above  the  ground,  set  in 
a  rich  framework  of  verdure,  there  appeared  a  niche, 
spacious  enough  to  admit  a  human  figure,  with  freedom 
for  such  gestures  as  spontaneously  accompany  earnest 
thought  and  genuine  emotion.  Into  this  natural  pulpit 
Ernest  ascended,  and  threw  a  look  of  familiar  kindness 
around  upon  his  audience.  They  stood,  or  sat,  or  re- 
clined upon  the  grass,  as  seemed  good  to  each,  with  the 
departing  sunshine  falling  obliquely  over  them,  and 
mingling  its  subdued  cheerfulness  with  the  solemnity  of 
a  grove  of  ancient  trees,  beneath  and  amid  the  boughs 
of  which  the  golden  rays  were  constrained  to  pass.  In 
another  direction  was  seen  the  Great  Stone  Face,  with 
the  same  cheer,  combined  with  the  same  solemnity,  in 
its  benignant  aspect. 

Ernest  began  to  speak,  giving  to  the  people  of  what 
was  in  his  heart  and  mind.  His  words  had  power, 
because  they  accorded  with  his  thoughts ;  and  his 
thoughts  had  reality  and  depth,  because  they  harmonized 
with  the  life  which  he  had  always  lived.  It  was  not 
mere  breath  that  this  preacher  uttered ;  they  were  the 
words  of  life,  because  a  life  of  good  deeds  and  holy  love 
was  melted  into  them.  Pearls,  pure  and  rich,  had  been 
dissolved  into  this  precious  draught.  The  poet,  as  he 
listened,  felt  that  the  being  and  character  of  Ernest  were 
a  nobler  strain  of  poetry  than  he  had  ever  written.  His 
eyes  glistening  with  tears,  he  gazed  reverentially  at  the 
venerable  man,  and  said  within  himself  that  never  was 
there  an  aspect  so  worthy  of  a  prophet  and  a  sage  as  that 
mild,  sweet,  thoughtful  countenance,  with  the  glory  of 
white  hair  diffused  about  it.  At  a  distance,  but  dis- 
tinctly to  be  seen,  high  up  in  the  golden  light  of  the 


The  Great  Stone   Face  315 

setting  sun,  appeared  the  Great  Stone  Face,  with  hoary 
mists  around  it,  like  the  white  hairs  around  the  brow 
of  Ernest.  Its  look  of  grand  beneficence  seemed  to 
embrace  the  world. 

At  that  moment,  in  sympathy  with  a  thought  which 
he  was  about  to  utter,  the  face  of  Ernest  assumed  a 
grandeur  of  expression,  so  imbued  with  benevolence, 
that  the  poet,  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  threw  his  arms 
aloft,  and  shouted,  — 

"  Behold  !  Behold  !  Ernest  is  himself  the  likeness  of 
the  Great  Stone  Face  !  " 

Then  all  the  people  looked,  and  saw  that  what  the 
deep-sighted  poet  said  was  true.  The  prophecy  was 
fulfilled.  But  Ernest,  having  finished  what  he  had  to 
say,  took  the  poet's  arm,  and  walked  slowly  homeward, 
Btill  hoping  that  some  wiser  and  better  man  than  himself 
would  by  and  by  appear,  bearing  a  resemblance  to  the 
Great  Stone  Face. 


X 

THE    NECKLACE.     THE   STRING 


THE    NECKLACE.     THE    STRING 

By  guv   DE   MAUPASSANT 

INTRODUCTORY 
THE    WELL-BALANCED    SHORT    STORY 

THE  legitimate  successor  of  Poe  as  an  in- 
ventor and  constructor  of  short  stories 
is  Guy  de  Maupassant,  who  carried  the 
art  well-nigh  to  perfection.  It  is  said  that  he  re- 
ceived a  most  careful  training  at  the  hands  of 
Flaubert,  his  uncle,  and  was  not  allowed  to  pub- 
lish anything  for  the  space  of  seven  years,  when 
"  Boule  de  Suif "  made  its  appearance  in  a  volume 
of  short  stories  by  the  younger  French  writers, 
edited  by  Zola.  This  single  story  made  Maupas- 
sant's reputation,  and  in  only  one  or  two  cases  did 
he  surpass  or  even  equal  it  in  his  subsequent  work. 
His  two  masterpieces  are  this  story  and  "  La 
Maison  Tellier,"  but  both  are  the  stories  of  pros- 
titutes and  unsuitable  for  English  translation. 
Not  far  behind  them  stands  "The  String;"  and 
no  story  illustrates  Maupassant's  art  better  than 
"  The  Necklace."  Both  are  very  short,  and  so 
better  illustrative  of  his  most  striking  character- 
istic than  either  of  the  stories  mentioned  above. 
Had  Maupassant  possessed   Hawthorne's  loftiness 


320  Greatest  Short  Stories 

of  character  and  Poe's  breadth  of  understanding 
he  would  unquestionably  have  been  our  supreme 
artist  in  the  short  story.  As  it  is  he  illustrates 
the  possibilities  of  art  triumphant  over  littleness 
of  soul  and  narrowness  of  mind.  He  deliberately 
chooses  the  most  insignificant  incidents  and  the 
slightest  possible  problems  of  life,  and  makes 
them  supremely  interesting.  It  is  difficult  to 
conceive  of  any  greater  triumph  of  mere  art. 

It  is  true  that  Maupassant's  method  is  artificial, 
and  any  attempt  at  direct  imitation  of  him  would 
no  doubt  prove  disastrous.  But  for  the  critical 
student  seeking  to  penetrate  the  principles  which 
govern  the  art  of  short  story  writing,  no  stories 
will  so  well  repay  careful  study  as  his. 

It  will  be  of  interest  to  state  briefly  the  char- 
acteristics of  a  short  story  as  we  find  them  in 
Maupassant. 

First,  in  order  to  construct  a  short  story  we 
must  have  a  central  idea  which  comes  to  us  from 
real  life.  Formerly  the  whole  story,  nearly,  was 
taken  from  life:  in  Maupassant  very  little  of  it  is 
a  mere  discovery,  but  on  that  little  a  great  deal 
depends.  That  a  woman  should  lose  a  diamond 
necklace,  work  ten  years  to  pay  for  it,  and  then 
discover  that  it  was  paste,  is  but  a  new  form  of  a 
very  old  situation,  and  one  that  is  constantly  re- 
curring in  everyday  life ;   but  it  is  striking. 

Given  our  central  idea,  how  shall  we  develop  it? 
Maupassant  begins  "  The  Necklace  "  thus  :  "  She 
was  one  of  those  pretty  and  charming  girls  who 


The  Necklace.     The  Strins:         •^21 


t) 


are  sometimes,  as  if  by  a  mistake  of  destiny,  born 
in  a  family  of  clerks."  We  must  choose  a  charac- 
ter best  adapted  to  illustrating,  by  his  or  her  life, 
the  effect  of  our  central  idea.  It  is  not  necessary 
here  to  give  all  the  reasons  why  Maupassant  chose 
the  particular  character  he  did  for  this  story,  for 
many  of  them  are  sufficiently  obvious.  In  writing 
the  story  he  begins  by  describing  her,  and  devotes 
fully  three  hundred  of  his  brief  eighteen  hundred 
words  to  this  description.  He  tells  how  she  dressed, 
what  sort  of  things  she  had  in  the  house,  what 
sort  of  man  her  husband  was,  what  they  had  for 
dinner,  her  dreams  and  hopes.  And  all  the  rest  of 
the  story  is  about  this  woman,  what  happened  to 
her,  how  she  was  delighted  and  disappointed.  Her 
husband  is  hardly  mentioned  after  the  first.  It 
is  a  story  about  this  woman  who  has  interested 
you,  and  everything  is  omitted  but  that  which 
affects  her  life. 

In  the  course  of  the  story  we  note  that  the  event 
permanently  changes  the  course  of  the  life  of  the 
central  character.  Here  we  may  note  that  in  every 
story  that  is  technically  a  "  short  story  "  the  inter- 
est centres  on  but  one  character,  and  the  event  of 
the  story  must  permanently  alter  the  course  of  life 
of  that  character.  The  lives  of  other  persons  also 
may  be  altered,  but  they  are  referred  to  in  the 
story  only  so  far  as  they  have  relations  to  the 
central  character,  and  are  necessary  to  a  proper 
presentation  of  that  character.  Herein  is  the  dif. 
ference  between  a  novel  and  a   short  story,  —  at 


32  2  Greatest  Short  vStories 

least  between  a  short  story  and  a  novel  developed 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  drama:  a  short  story 
has  but  one  character  whose  life  (either  physical 
or  mental)  is  materially  altered  by  the  event,  while 
a  novel  represents  the  collision  of  several  charac- 
ters who  alter  each  other's  lives. 

The  event  is  highly  dramatic,  and  though  fore- 
shadowed and  prepared  for  throughout,  comes  as 
a  surprise.  Much  of  the  interest  and  effect  of  the 
story  depends  on  this  surprise,  which  nevertheless 
appears  to  be  the  most  natural  and  logical  out- 
come of  the  story.  An  unnatural  event  produces 
no  effect.  An  unexpected  catastrophe,  which  at 
the  same  time  appears  perfectly  natural,  forces  the 
mind  to  reflect  on  the  moral  or  intellectual  prob- 
lem presented.  After  reading  "  The  Necklace  " 
we  spontaneously  ejaculate,  "  Oh,  the  irony  of 
fate !  "  and  this  ejaculation,  unexpressed  in  the 
story,  but  inevitable  on  the  part  of  the  reader, 
constitutes  the  moral  of  the  tale.  The  reader  will 
observe  the  superior  art  which  points  the  moral 
without  expressing  it.  In  order  to  have  interest, 
a  story  must  have  some  relation  to  the  reflec- 
tions or  experiences  of  the  reader.  Success  de- 
pends largely  on  understanding  the  reader's  life, 
and  nicely  adapting  the  story  to  the  solution  of 
the  reader's  doubts  or  stimulating  the  mind  to 
new  reflections. 

One  point  remains  to  be  noted.  Dramatic 
strength  is  always  attained  by  sudden  and  strik- 
ing   contrasts.     In    "  The    Necklace,"    notice    the 


The  Necklace  323 

striking  contrast  in  the  latter  part  of  the  story 
between  what  Madame  Loisel  actually  did  and 
what  in  the  first  part  of  the  story  she  wanted  to 
do.  She  wanted  luxuries,  servants,  a  fine  house; 
but  she  dismissed  the  servant  she  had,  and  rented 
a  garret  under  the  roof.  Each  fact  in  the  last 
part  is  matched  with  a  corresponding  dream  in 
the  first  part.  Then  at  the  end  of  the  story  her 
friend,  who  is  rich  and  still  remains  young,  with 
smooth,  white  hands,  is  brought  face  to  face  with 
madame,  who  has  grown  coarse  and  rough.  The 
use  of  contrast  is  constant  and  extreme,  and  the 
dramatic  strength  gained  is  corresponding. 

The  reader  will  take  interest  in  analyzing  "  The 
String"  in  the  same  way,  and  noting  how  closely 
similar  is  the  method  of  its  construction.  The 
elements  pointed  out  above  will  be  found  in 
varying  proportions  in  all  completely  artistic 
short   stories. 

THE    NECKLACE 

SHE  was  one  of  those  pretty  and  charming  girls  who, 
as  if  by  a  mistake  of  destiny,  are  born  in  a  family 
of  clerks.  She  had  no  dowry,  no  expectations,  no 
means  of  becoming  known,  understood,  loved,  wedded 
by  any  rich  and  distinguished  man ;  and  so  she  let 
herself  be  married  to  a  petty  clerk  in  the  Bureau  of 
Public  Instruction. 

She  was  simple  in  her  dress  because  she  could  not  be 
elaborate,  but  she  was  as  unhappy  as  if  she  had  fallen 
from  a  higher  rank,  for  with  women  there  is  no  distinc- 


324  Greatest  Short  Stories 

tion  of  higher  and  lower :  their  beauty,  their  grace,  and 
their  natural  charm  fill  the  place  of  birth  and  family. 
Natural  delicacy,  instinctive  elegance,  a  lively  wit,  are  the 
ruling  forces  in  the  social  realm,  and  make  daughters  of 
the  common  people  the  equals  of  the  finest  ladies. 

She  suffered  ceaselessly,  feeling  herself  born  for  all  the 
refinements  and  luxuries  of  life.  She  suffered  from  the 
poverty  of  her  home  as  she  looked  at  the  dirty  walls, 
the  worn-out  chairs,  the  ugly  curtains.  All  those  things 
of  which  another  woman  of  her  station  would  have  been 
quite  unconscious  tortured  her  and  made  her  indignant. 
The  sight  of  the  country  girl  who  was  maid-of-all-works  in 
her  humble  household  filled  her  almost  with  desperation. 

She  dreamed  of  echoing  halls  hung  with  Oriental 
draperies  and  lighted  by  tall  bronze  candelabra,  while 
two  tall  footmen  in  knee-breeches  drowsed  in  great 
armchairs  by  reason  of  the  heating  stove's  oppressive 
warmth.  She  dreamed  of  splendid  parlors  furnished  in 
rare  old  silks,  of  carved  cabinets  loaded  with  priceless 
curiosities,  and  of  entrancing  little  boudoirs  just  right 
for  afternoon  chats  with  bosom  friends  —  men  famous 
and  sought  after,  the  envy  and  the  desire  of  all  the  other 
women. 

When  she  sat  down  to  dinner  at  a  little  table  covered 
with  a  cloth  three  days  old,  and  looked  across  at  her  hus- 
band as  he  uncovered  the  soup  and  exclaimed  with  an 
air  of  rapture,  "  Oh,  the  delicious  stew  !  I  know  nothing 
better  than  that,"  she  dreamed  of  dainty  dinners,  of 
shining  silverware,  of  tapestries  which  peopled  the  walls 
with  antique  figures  and  strange  birds  in  fairy  forests  ; 
she  dreamed  of  delicious  viands  served  in  wonderful 
dishes,  of  whispered  gallantries  heard  with  a  sphinx-like 
smile  as  you  eat  the  pink  flesh  of  a  trout  or  the  wing  of 
a  bird. 


The  Necklace  325 

She  had  no  dresses,  no  jewels,  nothing ;  and  she 
loved  only  that,  she  felt  made  for  that.  She  was  filled 
with  a  desire  to  please,  to  be  envied,  to  be  bewitching 
and  sought  after.  She  had  a  rich  friend,  a  former 
schoolmate  at  the  convent,  whom  she  no  longer  wished 
to  visit  because  she  suffered  so  much  when  she  came 
home.  For  whole  days  at  a  time  she  wept  without  ceas- 
ing in  bitterness  and  hopeless  misery. 

Now,  one    evening  her   husband  came  home  with  a 
triumphant  air,  holding  in  his  hand  a  large  envelope. 
"There,"  said  he,  "  there  is  something  for  you." 
She    quickly   tore    open   the    paper  and   drew  out  a 
printed   card,  bearing  these  words  :  — 

"The  Minister  of  Public  Instruction  and  Mme. 
Georges  Rampouneau  request  the  honor  of  M.  and 
Mme.  Loisel's  company  at  the  palace  of  the  Ministry, 
Monday  evening,  January   i8th." 

Instead  of  being  overcome  with  delight,  as  her  hus- 
band expected,  she  threw  the  invitation  on  the  table 
with  disdain,  murmuring : 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  with  that?  " 
"Why,  my  dear,  I  thought  you  would  be  pleased. 
You  never  go  out,  and  it  is  such  a  fine  opportunity, 
this  !  I  had  awful  trouble  in  getting  it.  Every  one 
wants  to  go ;  it  is  very  select,  and  they  are  not  giving 
many  invitations  to  clerks.  You  will  see  the  whole 
official  world." 

She  looked  at  him  with  irritation,  and  said,  impatiently  : 
"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  put  on  my  back  if  I  go  ?  " 
He  had  not  thought  of  that.      He  stammered  : 
"  Why,  the  dress  you  go  to  the  theatre  in.     It  seems 
all  right  to  me." 

He  stopped,  stupefied,  distracted,  on  seeing  that  his 


326  Greatest  Short  Stories 

wife  was  crying.  Two  great  tears  descended  slowly  from 
the  corners  of  her  eyes  toward  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
He  stuttered  : 

"  What 's  the  matter?     What 's  the  matter?  " 

By  a  violent  effort  she  subdued  her  feelings  and  re- 
plied in  a  calm  voice,  as  she  wiped  her  wet  cheeks  : 

"  Nothing.  Only  I  have  no  dress  and  consequently 
I  cannot  go  to  this  ball.  Give  your  invitation  to  some 
friend  whose  wife  is  better  equipped  than  I." 

He  was  in  despair.     He  replied  : 

"  Let  us  see,  Mathilde.  How  much  would  it  cost,  a 
suitable  dress,  which  you  could  wear  again  on  future 
occasions,  something  very  simple?" 

She  reflected  for  some  seconds,  computing  the  cost, 
and  also  wondering  what  sum  she  could  ask  without 
bringing  down  upon  herself  an  immediate  refusal  and  an 
astonished  exclamation  from  the  economical  clerk. 

At  last  she  answered  hesitatingly  : 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  with 
four  hundred  francs  I  could  manage." 

He  turned  a  trifle  pale,  for  he  had  been  saving  just 
that  sum  to  buy  a  gun  and  treat  himself  to  a  little  hunt- 
ing the  following  summer,  in  the  country  near  Nanterre, 
with  a  few  friends  who  went  there  to  shoot  larks  of  a 
Sunday. 

However,  he  said  : 

"  Well,  I  think  I  can  give  you  four  hundred  francs. 
But  see  that  you  have  a  pretty  dress." 

The  day  of  the  ball  drew  near,  and  Madame  Loisel 
seemed  sad,  unhappy,  anxious.  Her  dress  was  ready, 
however.     Her  husband  said   to   her  one   evening : 

"What  is  the  matter?  Come,  you've  been  looking 
queer  these  last  three  days." 


The  Necklace  327 

And  she  replied  : 

"  It  worries  me  that  I  have  no  jewels,  not  a  single 
stone,  nothing  to  put  on.  I  shall  look  wretched  enough. 
I  would  almost  rather  not  go  to  this  party." 

He  answered  : 

"  You  might  wear  natural  flowers.  They  are  very 
fashionable  this  season.  For  ten  francs  you  can  get  two 
or  three  magnificent  roses." 

She  was  not  convinced. 

"  No ;  there  is  nothing  more  humiliating  than  to  look 
poor  among  women  who  are  rich." 

But  her  husband  cried  : 

"  How  stupid  of  you  !  Go  and  find  your  friend  Ma- 
dame Forestier  and  ask  her  to  lend  you  some  jewels. 
You  are  intimate  enough  with  her  for  that." 

She  uttered  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  Of  course.     I  had  not  thought  of  that." 

The  next  day  she  went  to  her  friend's  house  and  told 
her  distress. 

Madame  Forestier  went  to  her  handsome  wardrobe, 
took  out  a  large  casket,  brought  it  back,  opened  it,  and 
said  to  Madame  Loisel : 

"  Choose,  my  dear." 

She  saw  first  of  all  some  bracelets,  then  a  pearl  neck- 
lace, then  a  Venetian  cross,  gold  and  precious  stones 
of  wonderful  workmanship.  She  tried  on  the  ornaments 
before  the  glass,  hesitated,  could  not  make  up  her  mind 
to  part  with  them,  to  give  them  back.     She  kept  asking : 

"  You  have  nothing  else?  " 

"  Why,  yes.  See,  I  do  not  know  what  will  please 
you." 

All  at  once  she  discovered,  in  a  black  satin  box,  a 
splendid  diamond  necklace,  and  her  heart  began  to  beat 
with  immoderate   desire.     Her  hands   trembled  as  she 


328  Greatest  Short  Stones 

took  it.  She  fastened  it  around  her  throat,  over  hei 
high-necked  dress,  and  stood  lost  in  ecstasy  as  she  looked 
at  herself. 

Then  she  asked,  hesitating,  full  of  anxiety  : 

"  Would  you  lend  me  that,  —  only  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  certainly." 

She  sprang  upon  the  neck  of  her  friend,  embraced  her 
rapturously,  then  fled  with  her  treasure. 

The  day  of  the  bail  arrived.  Madame  Loisel  was  a 
success.  She  was  prettier  than  all  the  others,  elegant, 
gracious,  smiling,  and  crazy  with  joy.  All  the  men  stared 
at  her,  asked  her  name,  tried  to  be  introduced.  All  the 
cabinet  officials  wished  to  waltz  with  her.  The  minister 
noticed  her. 

She  danced  with  intoxication,  with  passion,  made 
drunk  with  pleasure,  forgetting  all  in  the  triumph  of  her 
beauty,  in  the  glory  of  her  success,  in  a  sort  of  mist  of 
happiness,  the  result  of  all  this  homage,  all  this  admira- 
tion, all  these  awakened  desires,  this  victory  so  complete 
and  so  sweet  to  the  heart  of  woman. 

She  left  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Her  hus- 
band had  been  sleeping  since  midnight  in  a  little  deserted 
anteroom  with  three  other  gentlemen,  whose  wives  were 
having  a  good  time. 

He  threw  about  her  shoulders  the  wraps  which  he  had 
brought  for  her  to  go  out  in,  the  modest  wraps  of  com- 
mon life,  whose  poverty  contrasted  sharply  with  the  ele- 
gance of  the  ballroom  toilet.  She  felt  this  and  wished 
to  escape,  that  she  might  not  be  noticed  by  the  other 
women  who  were  enveloping  themselves  in  costly  furs. 

Loisel  held  her  back. 

"  Wait  here,  you  will  catch  cold  outside.  I  will  go 
and  find  a  cab." 


The  Necklace  329 

But  she  would  not  listen  to  him,  and  rapidly  descended 
the  stairs.  When  they  were  at  last  in  the  street,  they 
could  find  no  carriage,  and  began  to  look  for  one,  cry- 
ing after  the  cabmen  they  saw  passing  at  a  distance. 

They  walked  down  toward  the  Seine  in  despair,  shiver- 
ing with  the  cold.  At  last  they  found  on  the  quay  one 
of  those  ancient  nocturnal  coupes  that  one  sees  in  Paris 
only  after  dark,  as  if  they  were  ashamed  to  display  their 
wretchedness  during  the  day. 

They  were  put  down  at  their  door  in  the  Rue  des  Mar- 
tyrs, and  sadly  mounted  the  steps  to  their  apartments. 
It  was  all  over,  for  her.  And  as  for  him,  he  reflected 
that  he  must  be  at  his  office  at  ten  o'clock. 

She  took  off  the  wraps  which  enveloped  her  shoulders 
before  the  glass,  to  take  a  final  look  at  herself  in  all  her 
glory.  But  suddenly  she  uttered  a  cry.  She  no  longer 
had  the  necklace  about  her  neck  ! 

Her  husband,  already  half  undressed,  inquired  : 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

She  turned  madly  toward  him. 

"  I  have  —  I  have  —  1  no  longer  have  Madame  Fores- 
tier's  necklace." 

He  stood  up,  distracted. 

"  What  !  —  how  !  —  it  is  impossible  !  " 

They  looked  in  the  folds  of  her  dress,  in  the  folds  of 
her  cloak,  in  the  pockets,  everywhere.  They  could  not 
find  a  trace  of  it. 

He  asked  : 

"  You  are  sure  you  still  had  it  when  you  left  the  ball?  " 

"  Yes.     I  felt  it  in  the  vestibule  at  the  palace." 

"  But  if  you  had  lost  it  in  the  street  we  should  have 
heard  it  fall.     It  must  be  in  the  cab." 

"  Yes.  That 's  probably  it.  Did  you  take  the  num- 
ber?" 


330  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  No.     And  you,  you  did  not  notice  it?  " 

"  No." 

Tliey  looked  at  each  other  thunderstruck.  At  last 
Loisel  put  on  his  clothes  again. 

"  I  am  going  back,"  said  he,  "  over  every  foot  of  the 
way  we  came,  to  see  if  I  shall  not  find  it." 

So  he  started.  She  remained  in  her  ball  dress  without 
strength  to  go  to  bed,  sitting  on  a  chair,  with  no  fire, 
her  mind  a  blank. 

Her  husband  returned  about  seven  o'clock.  He  had 
found  nothing. 

He  went  to  police  headquarters,  to  the  newspapers 
to  offer  a  reward,  to  the  cab  companies,  everywhere,  in 
short,  where  a  suspicion  of  hope  led  him. 

She  watched  all  day,  in  the  same  state  of  blank  despair 
before  this  frightful  disaster. 

Loisel  returned  in  the  evening  with  cheeks  hollow  and 
pale  ;  he  had  found  nothing. 

"  You  must  write  to  your  friend,"  said  he,  "  that  you 
have  broken  the  clasp  of  her  necklace  and  that  you  are 
having  it  repaired.     It  will  give  us  time  to  turn  around." 

She  wrote  at  his  dictation. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  they  had  lost  all  hope. 

And  Loisel,  looking  five  years  older,  declared  : 

"  We  must  consider  how  to  replace  the  ornament." 

The  next  day  they  took  the  box  which  had  contained 

it,  and  went  to  the  place  of  the  jeweller  whose  name  they 

found  inside.     He  consulted  his  books. 

"  It  was  not  I,  madame,  who  sold  the  necklace  ;  I  must 

simply  have  furnished  the  casket." 

Then  they  went  from  jeweller  to  jeweller,  looking  for 

an  ornament  like  the  other,  consulting  their  memories, 

both  sick  with  chagrin  and  anguish. 


The  Necklace  331 

They  found,  in  a  shop  at  the  Palais-Royal,  a  string  of 
diamonds  which  seemed  to  them  exactly  what  they  were 
looking  for.  It  was  worth  forty  thousand  francs.  They 
could  have  it  for  thirty-six  thousand. 

So  they  begged  the  jeweller  not  to  sell  it  for  three 
days.  And  they  made  an  arrangement  that  he  should 
take  it  back  for  thirty-four  thousand  francs  if  the  other 
were  found  before  the  end  of  February. 

Loisel  had  eighteen  thousand  francs  which  his  father 
had  left  him.     He  would  borrow  the  rest. 

He  did  borrow,  asking  a  thousand  francs  of  one,  five 
hundred  of  another,  five  louis  here,  three  louis  there. 
He  gave  notes,  made  ruinous  engagements,  dealt  with 
usurers,  with  all  the  tribe  of  money-lenders.  He  com- 
promised the  rest  of  his  life,  risked  his  signature  with- 
out knowing  if  he  might  not  be  involving  his  honor, 
and,  terrified  by  the  anguish  yet  to  come,  by  the  black 
misery  about  to  fall  upon  him,  by  the  prospect  of  every 
physical  privation  and  every  mental  torture,  he  went  to 
get  the  new  necklace,  and  laid  down  on  the  dealer's 
counter  thirty-six  thousand  francs. 

When  Madame  Loisel  took  the  ornament  back  to 
Madame  Forestier,  the  latter  said  coldly : 

"  You  should  have  returned  it  sooner,  for  I  might 
have  needed  it." 

She  did  not  open  the  case,  to  the  relief  of  her  friend. 
If  she  had  detected  the  substitution,  what  would  she 
have  thought  ?  What  would  she  have  said  ?  Would  she 
have  taken  her  friend  for  a  thief? 

Madame  Loisel  now  knew  the  horrible  life  of  the 
needy ;  moreover,  all  at  once  she  took  her  part 
heroically.  They  must  pay  this  frightful  debt.  She 
would  pay  it.     They  dismissed  their  maid,   they  gave 


332  Greatest  Short  Stories 

up  their  apartment,  they  rented  another  under  the 
roof. 

She  came  to  know  the  drudgery  of  housework,  the 
odious  cares  of  the  kitchen.  She  washed  the  dishes, 
using  her  rosy  nails  on  the  greasy  pots  and  the  bottoms 
of  the  saucepans.  She  washed  the  dirty  hnen,  the  shirts 
and  the  dishcloths,  which  she  hung  to  dry  on  a  line ; 
she  carried  the  garbage  down  to  the  street  every  morn- 
ing, and  carried  up  the  water,  stopping  at  each  landing 
to  rest.  And,  dressed  like  a  woman  of  the  people,  she 
went  to  the  fruiterer's,  the  grocer's,  the  butcher's,  her 
basket  on  her  arm,  bargaining,  abusing,  defending  sou  by 
sou  her  miserable  money. 

Each  month  they  had  to  pay  some  notes,  renew 
others,  obtain  more  time. 

The  husband  worked  evenings  neatly  footing  up  the 
account  books  of  some  tradesman,  and  often  far  into 
the  night  he  sat  copying  manuscript  at  five  sous  a 
page. 

And  this  life  lasted  ten  years. 

At  the  end  of  ten  years  they  had  paid  everything,  — 
everything,  with  the  exactions  of  usury  and  the  accumu- 
lations of  compound  interest. 

Madame  Loisel  seemed  old  now.  She  had  become 
the  woman  of  impoverished  households,  —  strong  and 
hard  and  rough.  With  hair  half  combed,  with  skirts 
awry,  and  reddened  hands,  she  talked  loud  as  she 
washed  the  floor  with  great  swishes  of  water.  But  some- 
times, when  her  husband  was  at  the  office,  she  sat  down 
near  the  window  and  thought  of  that  evening  at  the 
ball  so  long  ago,  when  she  had  been  so  beautiful  and 
so  feted. 

What  would  have  happened  if  she  had  not  lost  that 
necklace  ?     \Vho  knows,  who  knows  ?     How  strange  life 


The  Necklace  333 

is,  how  changeful !     How  Uttle  a  thing  is  needed  for  us 
to  be  lost  or  to  be  saved  ! 

But  one  Sunday,  as  she  was  going  for  a  walk  in  the 
Champs  Elysees  to  refresh  herself  after  the  labors  of  the 
week,  all  at  once  she  saw  a  woman  walking  with  a  child. 
It  was  Madame  Forestier,  still  young,  still  beautiful,  still 
charming. 

Madame  Loisel  was  agitated.  Should  she  speak  to 
her?  Why,  of  course.  And  now  that  she  had  paid, 
she  would  tell  her  all.     Why  not? 

She  went  up. 

"  Bonjour,  Jeanne." 

The  other,  astonished  to  be  addressed  so  familiarly 
by  this  woman  of  the  people,  did  not  recognize  her. 
She  stammered  : 

"  But  —  madame  —  I  do  not  know  you.  You  must 
have  made  a  mistake." 

"  No,  I  am  Mathilde  Loisel." 

Her  friend  uttered  a  cry. 

"  Oh  !  my  poor  Mathilde,  how  changed  you  are  !  " 

"  Yes,    I    have   had   days    hard   enough    since    I    saw 
you,  days  wretched  enough  —  and  all  because  of  you  !  " 
(/(iMe?     How  so?" 

"  You  remember  that  necklace  of  diamonds  that  you 
lent  me  to  wear  to  the  ministerial  ball?" 

"Yes.     Well?" 

"Well,  I  lost  it." 

"  How?     But  you  returned  it  to  me." 

"  I  returned  to  you  another  exactly  like  it.  These 
ten  years  we  've  been  paying  for  it.  You  know  it  was 
not  easy  for  us,  who  had  nothing.  At  last  it  is  over,  and 
I  am  very  glad." 

Madame  Forestier  stood  staring  at  her. 


334  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  You  say  that  you  bought  a  necklace  of  diamonds  to 
replace  mine?  " 

"  Yes;  you  did  not  notice  it,  then?  They  were  very 
like." 

And  she  smiled  with  a  proud  and  naiVe  pleasure. 

Madame  Forestier,  deeply  moved,  took  both  her 
hands. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Mathilde  !  Why,  my  necklace  was 
paste.     It  was  worth  five  hundred  francs  at  most." 


^.^l^^'"- 


THE   STRING 


BY  every  road  round  Goderville  the  countrymen  with 
their  wives  were  coming  toward  the  town,  for  it  was 
market-day.  The  men  plodded  on,  their  bodies  lurching 
forward  at  every  movement  of  their  long  twisted  limbs, 
which  were  deformed  by  hard  work,  —  by  holding  the 
plough,  which  throws  up  the  left  shoulder  and  twists  the 
figure ;  by  mowing  grain,  which  forces  out  the  knees  in 
the  effort  to  stand  quite  steady ;  in  short,  by  all  the  ted- 
ious and  painful  toil  of  the  fields.  Their  blue  blouses, 
starched  and  shining  as  if  they  had  been  varnished,  with 
collar  and  cuffs  stitched  in  a  neat  design,  were  inflated 
about  their  bony  forms,  exactly  like  balloons  ready  to  soar, 
but  putting  forth  a  head,  two  arms,  and  two  legs. 

Some  were  leading  a  cow  or  a  calf  by  a  rope  ;  and,  just 
behind,  their  wives  lashed  the  animal  over  the  back  with 
a  leafy  branch,  to  hasten  its  pace.  On  their  arms  the 
women  carried  large  baskets,  whence  protruded  the  heads 
of  chickens  or  of  ducks ;  and  they  walked  with  shorter, 
quicker  steps  than  the  men,  their  withered,  upright  fig- 
ures wrapped  in  scanty  little  shawls  pinned  over  their  flat 
breasts,  their  hair  closely  done  up  in  white  cloths,  with  a 
cap  above. 


The  String  335 

Now  a  cart  passed  by,  jerked  along  by  an  ambling  nag ; 
and  queerly  it  shook  up  the  two  men  sitting  side  by  side 
and  a  woman  at  the  bottom  of  the  vehicle,  who  held  on  to 
the  sides  to  ease  the  heavy  jolting. 

In  the  market-place  at  Goderville  a  crowd  had  gath- 
ered, a  mingled  multitude  of  men  and  beasts.  The  horns 
of  the  cattle,  the  tall,  long-napped  hats  of  the  rich  peas- 
ants, and  the  head-dresses  of  the  peasant  women  rose 
above  the  surface  of  that  living  sea  ;  and  the  harsh,  shrill, 
squeaking  voices  made  a  continuous  and  savage  roar ; 
while  at  times  there  rose  above  it  a  burst  of  laughter  from 
the  husky  throat  of  an  amused  country  fellow,  or  the  long- 
drawn  moo  of  a  cow  tied  to  a  wall. 

It  all  smelled  of  the  stable,  of  milk  and  dung,  of  hay 
and  sweat,  emitting  that  pungent  and  disagreeable  odor 
of  man  and  beast,  which  is  peculiar  to  the  inhabitants  of 
the  fields. 

Master  Hauchecorne,  of  Br^aut^,  had  just  arrived  at 
Goderville,  and  was  making  his  way  toward  the  market- 
place when  he  saw  on  the  ground  a  little  piece  of  string. 
Master  Hauchecorne,  economical  like  all  true  Normans, 
considered  everything  worth  picking  up  which  might  be 
of  use  ;  so  he  stooped  painfully  down,  —  for  he  suffered 
from  rheumatism,  —  took  the  bit  of  twine  from  the 
ground,  and  was  preparing  to  roll  it  up  with  care,  when 
he  noticed  Master  Malandain  the  harness-maker  on  his 
doorstep,  looking  at  him.  They  had  once  had  a  differ- 
ence in  regard  to  a  halter,  and  they  remained  angry,  with 
ill  will  on  both  sides.  Master  Hauchecorne  was  seized 
with  a  feeling  of  shame  at  being  caught  thus  by  his  en- 
emy looking  in  the  dirt  for  a  piece  of  string.  He  hastily 
concealed  his  find  under  his  blouse,  then  in  the  pocket 
of  his  trousers ;  then  he  pretended  still  to  be  looking  on 
the  ground  for  something  he  failed  to  find,  and  at  last 


336  Greatest  Short  Stories 

went  away  toward  the  market-place,  his  head  thrust  for- 
ward, his  body  doubled  up  by  his  pains. 

In  a  moment  he  was  lost  in  the  clamorous  and  slow- 
moving  crowd,  agitated  by  its  interminable  bargains.  The 
peasants  felt  of  the  cows,  went  away,  came  back,  per- 
plexed and  forever  afraid  of  being  cheated,  never  daring 
to  decide,  eying  the  seller,  always  searching  to  discover 
the  tricks  of  the  man  and  the  defects  of  the  beast. 

The  women  had  placed  their  great  baskets  at  their 
feet ;  and  they  drew  out  their  poultry  and  placed  it 
on  the  ground,  where  it  lay  with  legs  tied,  scared  eye, 
and  scarlet  comb. 

They  listened  to  offers,  dryly  maintaining  their  price 
with  impassive  countenance ;  or,  all  at  once  deciding  to 
accept  the  proposed  reduction,  they  cried  out  to  the  cus- 
tomer who  was  slowly  moving  away  : 

"  Oh,  say,  Mas'  Anthime,  I  '11  let  you  have  it." 

Then  little  by  little  the  market-place  was  emptied,  and 
when  the  Angelus  sounded  noon,  those  who  lived  at  a  dis- 
tance scattered  to  the  inns. 

At  Jourdam's  the  great  dining-room  was  filled  with 
eaters,  just  as  the  vast  court  was  filled  with  vehicles  of 
every  kind  —  carts,  gigs,  wagons,  tilburies,  nameless  tilt- 
carts,  yellow  with  mud,  misshapen,  patched,  their  shafts 
pointing  to  the  skies  like  two  arms,  or  else  their  noses  to 
the  ground  and  their  tails  in  the  air. 

Opposite  the  diners  as  they  sat  at  table  the  fire  burned 
freely  in  the  huge  chimney,  throwing  out  a  lively  warmth 
upon  the  backs  of  the  row  upon  the  right.  On  three  spits 
chickens,  pigeons,  and  legs  of  lamb  were  turning  before 
the  fire  ;  and  a  savory  odor  of  roast  meat,  and  of  gravy 
streaming  over  its  crisp,  browned  surface,  floated  up  from 
the  hearth,  kindling  the  appetite  till  the  mouth  watered 
for  the  viands. 


The  String  337 

All  the  aristocracy  of  the  plough  were  eating  there  with 
Master  Jourdain,  innkeeper  and  horse-dealer,  a  knave 
whose  pockets  were  well  lined. 

The  plates  went  round,  and  were  emptied,  as  were  the 
jugs  of  yellow  cider.  Each  told  of  his  affairs,  his  bargains, 
and  his  sales  ;  and  all  discussed  the  crops.  The  season 
was  good  for  vegetables,  but  a  little  wet  for  grain. 

All  at  once  the  rub-a-dub  of  the  drum  sounded  in  the 
court  before  the  house.  In  a  moment  every  man  was 
on  his  feet  (save  some  of  the  more  indifferent)  and  rushed 
to  door  or  windows,  his  mouth  still  full,  and  his  napkin 
in  his  hand. 

After  he  had  finished  his  tattoo,  the  public  crier  raised 
his  voice,  launching  his  jerky  phrases  with  pauses  quite 
out  of  place  : 

"  Be  it  known  to  the  inhabitants  of  Goderville,  and  in 
general  to  all  —  persons  present  at  the  market,  that  there 
has  been  lost  this  morning,  on  the  road  from  Beuzeville, 
between  —  nine  and  ten  o'clock,  a  black  leather  pocket- 
book,  containing  five  hundred  francs  and  business  papers. 
You  are  requested  to  return  it  —  to  the  mayor's  office, 
without  delay,  or  to  Master  Fortune  Houlbreque,  of 
Manneville.     There  will  be  twenty  francs  reward." 

Then  the  man  went  away.  Far  down  the  street  the 
mufiled  beating  of  the  drum  might  have  been  heard,  and 
the  faint  voice  of  the  crier  repeating  his  announcement. 

In  a  moment  every  one  was  talking  of  the  incident, 
discussing  the  chances  Master  Houlbreque  had  of  re- 
covering or  not  recovering  his  pocketbook. 

So  the  meal  went  on. 

As  they  were  draining  their  coffee  cups,  a  police  officei 
appeared  on  the  threshold. 

He  asked  : 

"  Is  Master  Hauchecome,  of  Br^aut^,  here  ?  " 

22 


338  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Master  Hauchecorne,  who  was  seated  at  the  opposite 
end  of  the  table,  answered  : 

"That's  me." 

The  officer  repHed  : 

"  Master  Hauchecorne,  will  you  have  the  kindness  to 
accompany  me  to  the  office  of  the  mayor?  His  honor, 
the  mayor,  wishes  to  speak  with  you." 

The  farmer,  surprised,  disturbed,  finished  his  glass  at 
a  gulp,  rose,  and,  even  more  bent  than  in  the  morning, 
since  the  first  steps  after  each  period  of  rest  were  particu- 
larly difficult,  he  started  along,  saying  over  and  over : 

"  That 's  me,  that  's  me." 

So  he  followed  the  officer. 

The  mayor  was  waiting  for  him,  seated  in  an  armchair. 
He  was  the  notary  of  the  district,  a  big,  severe  man, 
pompous  in  his  speech. 

"  Master  Hauchecorne,"  said  he,  "you  were  seen  this 
morning  to  pick  up,  on  the  road  from  Beuzeville,  the 
pocketbook  lost  by  Master  Houlbreque,  of  Manneville." 

The  old  fellow  stood  looking  at  the  mayor,  speechless, 
already  terrified  by  the  suspicion  that  rested  upon  him, 
without  in  the  least  knowing  why. 

"  Me,  me  !   I  picked  up  that  pocketbook?" 

"  Yes,  you." 

"  Word  of  honor,  I  don't  know  nothing  about  it  at 
all." 

•'  You  were  seen." 

"  Seen?    Me?    Who  says  he  saw  me?  " 

"  M.  Malandain,  the  harness-maker." 

Then  the  old  man  remembered,  understood  ;  and,  red- 
dening with  anger,  he  said  : 

"  Uh  !  'e  saw  me,  did  "e,  the  rat !  'E  saw  me  pick 
up  this  string  here  ;  see  here,  your  honor." 

And,  fumbling  at  the  bottom  of  his  pocket,  he  drew 
out  a  little  piece  of  twine. 


The  String  339 

But  the  mayor  incredulously  shook  his  head. 

"  You  will  not  make  me  believe,  Master  Hauchecorne, 
that  M.  Malandain,  who  is  a  man  of  his  word,  has  mis- 
taken this  string  for  a  pocketbook." 

The  farmer,  furious,  raising  his  hand  and  spitting  ^  to 
attest  his  good  faith,  repeated  : 

'*  Nevertheless,  it  is  the  truth  of  the  good  God,  the 
solemn  truth,  your  honor.  There  !  on  my  soul  and 
salvation,  I  swear  it." 

The  mayor  replied  : 

"  After  you  had  picked  up  the  object,  you  even  hunted 
about  a  long  time  in  the  dust,  to  see  if  some  piece  of 
money  had  not  slipped  out  of  it." 

The  good  man  was  stifled  with  indignation  and  fear. 

"  How  can  they  tell  !  —  how  can  they  tell  !  —  such 
lies  as  that  to  libel  an  honest  man  !    How  can  they  tell  !  " 

He  might  protest  :  no  one  believed  him. 

He  was  confronted  with  M.  Malandain,  who  repeated 
and  sustained  his  declaration.  They  abused  one  another 
for  an  hour.  At  his  request,  Master  Hauchecorne  was 
searched.     Nothing  was  found  on  him. 

At  last  the  mayor,  much  perplexed,  sent  him  away, 
warning  him  that  he  would  Jay  the  matter  before  the 
court  and  ask  for  instructions. 

The  news  had  spread.  On  his  leaving  the  mayor's 
office,  the  old  man  was  surrounded  and  questioned  with 
a  curiosity  that  was  serious  or  jesting,  but  into  which  no 
indignation  entered.  And  he  proceeded  to  tell  the  story 
of  the  string. 

They  did  not  believe  him.     They  laughed. 

He  went  along,  stopped  by  every  one,  stopping  his 
acquaintances  again  and  again,  going  all  over  his  story 

^  In  England  peasants  spit  on  their  hands  and  say,  "  S'  'elp  rae 
Gawd." 


340  Greatest  Short  Stories 

and    repeating    his   protestations,   showing  his    pockets 
turned  inside  out  to  prove  there  was  nothing  in  them. 

They  said  to  him  : 
.    "  Go  on,  you  old   rogue  !  " 

And  he  grew  angry,  working  himself  into  a  fever, 
desperate  at  not  being  believed,  for  he  did  not  know 
what  to  do,  and  kept  telling  his  story  over  and  over. 

Night  came  on.  It  was  time  to  go  home.  He  set 
out  along  the  road  with  three  of  his  neighbors,  to 
whom  he  showed  the  place  where  he  had  picked  up 
the  bit  of  cord ;  and  all  along  the  road  he  kept  talk- 
ing of  the  incident. 

That  evening  he  made  the  round  in  the  village  of 
Br^autd,  to  let  everybody  know.  He  told  his  story 
only  to  the  incredulous. 

He  was  ill  of  it  all  night. 

The  next  day,  about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
Marius  Paumelle,  a  laborer  on  the  farm  of  Master 
Breton,  gardener  at  Ymauville,  returned  the  pocket- 
book  and  its  contents  to  Master  Houlbreque  of  Manne- 
ville. 

This  man's  statement  was  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
found  the  thing  on  the  road,  but  not  knowing  how  to 
read,  he  had  carried  it  home  and  given  it  to  his 
master. 

The  news  spread.  Master  Hauchecorne  was  informed 
of  it.  He  started  off  at  once,  and  immediately  began 
to  retell  the  story  as  completed  by  the  denouejueni. 
He  was  triumphant. 

"  I  di'n'  care  so  much  for  the  thing  itself,  you  un- 
derstand," said  he,  "but  it  was  the  lie.  There  is  noth- 
ing nastier  than  being  set  down  for  a  liar." 

All  day  he  talked  of  his  adventure ;  he  told  it  on  the 
road  to  the  people  who  passed,  at  the  public  house  to  the 


The  String  341 

people  who  drank,  and  the  next  Sunday  to  those  who 
gathered  at  the  church.  He  even  stopped  strangers  to 
tell  them  about  it.  Now  he  felt  easy,  and  yet  something 
troubled  him,  without  his  knowing  exactly  what.  People 
seemed  to  smile  as  they  listened.  They  did  not  appear 
convinced.  He  felt  as  if  they  babbled  behind  his 
back. 

On  Tuesday  of  the  following  week  he  turned  up  at  the 
market  at  Goderville,  sent  there  only  by  the  need  of  tell- 
ing his  tale. 

Malandain,  standing  in  his  doorway,  began  to  laugh  as 
he  saw  him  pass.     Why  ? 

He  accosted  a  farmer  of  Criquetot,  who  did  not  allow 
him  to  finish,  but,  givmg  him  a  tap  in  the  pit  of  the 
Stomach,  cried   in   his   face : 

"  Go  on,  you  old  rogue  !  "  Then  the  fellow  turned  on 
his  heel. 

Master  Hauchecorne  stood  speechless,  more  unhappy 
than  ever.     Why  did  every  one  call  him  "  old  rogue  "  ? 

When  he  sat  down  at  the  table  at  Jourdain's,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  explain  the  affair. 

A  horse-dealer  of  Montivilliers  cried  at  him  : 

"  Come,  come,  now,  you  old  scamp,  we  know  all  about 
you  and  your  piece  of  string." 

"  But  they  found  the  pocketbook  !  " 

The  other  went  on  : 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,  daddy ;  there  is  one  who  finds  it 
and  one  who  takes  it  back.  No  one  sees,  no  one  knows  ; 
but  you  give  yourself  away." 

The  peasant  sat  dumbfounded  ;  he  understood  at  last. 
They  accused  him  of  having  sent  the  pocketbook  back 
by  a  confederate,  by  an  accomplice. 

He  tried  to  protest.  Every  one  at  the  table  began  to 
laugh. 


342  Greatest  Short  Stories 

He  could  not  eat  his  dinner,  and  went  away  amid  their 
ridicule. 

He  went  home,  ashamed  and  indignant,  choking  with 
rage,  overcome  with  confusion,  all  the  more  in  despair 
that  he  was  capable,  with  his  Norman  artfulness,  of  doing 
that  of  which  they  accused  him,  and  even  of  pluming 
himself  on  it  as  a  good  trick.  His  innocence  dimly 
seemed  to  him  impossible  to  prove,  his  trickiness  being 
so  well  known,  and  he  felt  struck  to  the  heart  by  the 
injustice  of  the  suspicion. 

Then  he  began  again  to  tell  of  his  adventure,  adding 
new  arguments  each  time,  more  energetic  protests,  and 
more  solemn  oaths  which  he  thought  out  in  his  hours  of 
solitude,  his  mind  being  occupied  with  the  story  of  the 
string.  People  believed  him  the  less,  the  more  subtle 
and  complicated  his  argument  became. 

"  Ha  !  liar's  proofs,  those  !  "  they  said  behind  his  back. 

He  felt  it ;  it  gnawed  at  his  vitals ;  he  wore  himself 
out   with  useless  efforts. 

The  jokers  now  made  him  tell  "  The  Story  of  the  String" 
for  their  amusement,  as  a  soldier  who  has  been  on  a 
campaign  is  made  to  tell  of  the  battle. 

His  mind,  deeply  affected,  grew  weak. 

Toward  the  end  of  December  he  took  to  his  bed. 

He  died  early  in  January,  and  in  the  dehrium  of  his 
death  agony  he  protested  his  innocence,  repeating  : 

"  A  liT  string,  a  H'l'  string,  —  see,  here  it  is,  your 
honor." 


XI 

THE    MAN    WHO    WOULD    BE 
KING 


THE    MAN    WHO    WOULD    BE 
KING 

By   RUDYARD   KIPLING 

INTRODUCTORY 
STRENGTH    IN    CONTRAST 

IN  spite  of  the  greatness  of  Poe  and  Haw- 
thorne, and  the  rise  of  the  short  story  in 
France,  it  was  not  until  the  advent  of 
Kipling  in  1889  that  the  short  story  in  English 
became  a  recognized  and  popular  vehicle  for 
presenting  an  author's  special  knowledge  of  life. 
While  short  stories  have  always  been  indispens- 
able to  the  magazines,  a  volume  of  short  stories 
on  a  variety  of  topics  and  kinds  of  life  did  not 
have  sufficient  unity  to  hold  the  public  interest 
permanently.  Kipling's  success  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  his  stories  presented  a  series  of  pictures 
of  a  fresh  and  interesting  kind  of  life.  To  some 
extent  they  resembled  chapters  in  a  novel,  and  the 
most  popular  volume,  that  of  "  Soldiers  Three," 
was  confined  to  incidents  in  the  lives  of  three  men. 
Such  a  unity  in  the  subject-matter  of  the  stories  is 


34^  Greatest  Short  Stones 

essential  to   the   large  success  of  any  volume  of 
short  stories. 

Kipling's  artistic  originality  is  confined  almost 
entirely  to  the  style  in  which  he  writes.  In  our 
study  of  Maupassant  it  was  pointed  out  that  the 
secret  of  strength  is  contrast.  Kipling  uses  this 
not  only  in  the  construction  of  his  stories,  but 
in  the  wording  of  every  sentence;  almost  every 
phrase  represents  a  striking,  yet  reasonable,  in- 
congruity, which  acts  as  a  continual  stimulus  upon 
the  imagination  of  the  reader.  Though  a  method, 
a  conscious  device,  it  requires  originality  and  force 
of  mind  to  prevent  the  incongruities  from  becom- 
ing absurd,  and  to  keep  them  perpetually  sugges- 
tive, as  Kipling  does.  In  this  particular  device 
Kipling  remains  unsurpassed,  though  he  has  had 
many  imitators. 

In  spite  of  the  presence  of  Carnehan,  "  The  Man 
Who  Would  Be  King"  is  the  story  of  one  man, 
namely  Dravot.  These  personages  were  selected 
because  of  the  violent  contrast  between  their  char- 
acters as  presented  in  the  early  part  of  the  story 
and  their  ambition  to  be  kings.  The  central  idea, 
that  such  men  may  reasonably  come  so  near  to 
being  kings,  is  a  great  and  striking  one.  The 
moral  is  suggested  in 'the  motto,  "Brother  to  a 
Prince  and  fellow  to  a  beggar  if  he  be  found 
worthy."  In  the  matter  of  final  success,  charac- 
ter (personal  worth)  is  all;  social  position  (prince 
or  beggar),  nothing.     Dravot  failed  because  of  a 


The   Man  Who  Would  Be   King     347 

weakness  in  his  character,  not  because  chance  had 
made  him  an  outcast. 


THE   MAN   WHO   WOULD    BE    KING 

Brother  to  a  Prince  and  fellow  to  a  beggar  if  he  be  found  worthy. 

THE  Law,  as  quoted,  lays  down  a  fair  conduct  of 
life,  and  one  not  easy  to  follow.  I  have  been 
fellow  to  a  beggar  again  and  again  under  circumstances 
which  prevented  either  of  us  finding  out  whether  the 
other  was  worthy.  I  have  still  to  be  brother  to  a  Prince, 
though  I  once  came  near  to  kinship  with  what  might 
have  been  a  veritable  King  and  was  promised  the  rever- 
sion of  a  Kingdom — army,  law-courts,  revenue  and  policy 
all  complete.  But,  to-day,  I  greatly  fear  that  my  King  is 
dead,  and  if  I  want  a  crown  I  must  go  hunt  it  for  myself. 

The  beginning  of  everything  was  in  a  railway  train 
upon  the  road  to  Mhow  from  Ajmir.  There  had  been 
a  Deficit  in  the  Budget,  which  necessitated  travelling, 
not  Second-class,  which  is  only  half  as  dear  as  First- 
class,  but  by  Intermediate,  which  is  very  awful  indeed. 
There  are  no  cushions  in  the  Intermediate  class,  and  the 
population  are  either  Intermediate,  which  is  Eurasian, 
or  native,  which  for  a  long  night  journey  is  nasty,  or 
Loafer,  which  is  amusing  though  intoxicated.  Inter- 
mediates do  not  buy  from  refreshment-rooms.  They 
carry  their  food  in  bundles  and  pots,  and  buy  sweets 
from  the  native  sweetmeat-sellers,  and  drink  the  road- 
side water.  That  is  why  in  hot  weather  Intermediates 
are  taken  out  of  the  carriages  dead,  and  in  all  weathers 
are  most  properly  looked  down  upon. 

My  particular  Intermediate  happened  to  be  empty  till 
I  reached  Nasirabad,  when  a  big  black-browed  gentle- 


348  Greatest  Short  Stories 

man  in  shirt-sleeves  entered,  and,  following  the  custom 
of  Intermediates,  passed  the  time  of  day.  He  was  a 
wanderer  and  a  vagabond  like  myself,  but  with  an 
educated  taste  for  whiskey.  He  told  tales  of  things  he 
had  seen  and  done,  of  out-of-the-way  corners  of  the 
Empire  into  which  he  had  penetrated,  and  of  adventures 
in  which  he  risked  his  life  for  a  few  days'  food. 

"  If  India  was  filled  with  men  like  you  and  me,  not 
knowing  more  than  the  crows  where  they  'd  get  their 
next  day's  rations,  it  is  n't  seventy  millions  of  revenue 
the  land  would  be  paying  —  it 's  seven  hundred  millions," 
said  he  ;  and  as  I  looked  at  his  mouth  and  chin  I  was 
disposed  to  agree  with  him. 

We  talked  politics  —  the  politics  of  Loaferdom  that 
sees  things  from  the  underside  where  the  lath  and 
plaster  is  not  smoothed  off — and  we  talked  postal 
arrangements  because  my  friend  wanted  to  send  a 
telegram  back  from  the  next  station  to  Ajmir,  the 
turning-off  place  from  the  Bombay  to  the  Mhow  line 
as  you  travel  westward.  My  friend  had  no  money 
beyond  eight  annas  which  he  wanted  for  dinner,  and  I 
had  no  money  at  all,  owing  to  the  hitch  in  the  Budget 
before  mentioned.  Further,  I  was  going  into  a  wilder- 
ness where,  though  I  should  resume  touch  with  the 
Treasury,  there  were  no  telegraph  offices.  I  was,  there- 
fore, unable  to  help  him  in  any  way. 

"  We  might  threaten  a  Station-master,  and  make  him 
send  a  wire  on  tick,"  said  my  friend,  "  but  that 'd  mean 
enquiries  for  you  and  for  me,  and  I've  got  my  hands 
full  these  days.  Did  you  say  you  were  travelling  back 
along  this  line  within  any  days?" 

"  Within  ten,"  I  said. 

"Can't  you  make  it  eight?"  said  he.  "Mine  is 
rather  urgent  business." 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     349 

"  I  can  send  your  telegram  within  ten  days  if  that  will 
serve  you,"  I  said. 

"  I  could  n't  trust  the  wire  to  fetch  him  now  I  think 
of  it.  It's  this  way.  He  leaves  Delhi  on  the  23rd  for 
Bombay.  That  means  he  '11  be  running  through  Ajmir 
about  the  night  of  the  23rd." 

*'  But  I  'm  going  into  the  Indian  Desert,"  I  explained. 

"  Well  and  good,"  said  he.  "  You  '11  be  changing  at 
Marwar  Junction  to  get  into  Jodhpore  territory  —  you 
must  do  that  —  and  he  '11  be  coming  through  Marwar 
Junction  in  the  early  morning  of  the  24th  by  the  Bom- 
bay Mail.  Can  you  be  at  Marwar  Junction  on  that 
time?  'T won't  be  inconveniencing  you  because  I 
know  that  there  's  precious  few  pickings  to  be  got  out 
of  these  Central  India  States  —  even  though  you  pretend 
to  be  correspondent  of  the  Backwoodsman." 

"  Have  you  ever  tried  that  trick?  "  I  asked. 

"  Again  and  again,  but  the  Residents  find  you  out, 
and  then  you  get  escorted  to  the  Border  before  you  've 
time  to  get  your  knife  into  them.  But  about  my  friend 
here.  I  must  give  him  a  word  o'  mouth  to  tell  him 
what 's  come  to  me  or  else  he  won't  know  where  to  go. 
I  would  take  it  more  than  kind  of  you  if  you  was  to 
come  out  of  Central  India  in  time  to  catch  him  at  Mar- 
war Junction,  and  say  to  him  :  '  He  has  gone  South  for 
the  week.'  He  '11  know  what  that  means.  He  's  a  big 
man  with  a  red  beard,  and  a  great  swell  he  is.  You  '11 
find  him  sleeping  like  a  gentleman  with  all  his  luggage 
round  him  in  a  Second-class  apartment.  But  don't  you 
be  afraid.  Slip  down  the  window  and  say  :  '  He  has 
gone  South  for  the  week,'  and  he  '11  tumble.  It 's  only 
cutting  your  time  of  stay  in  those  parts  by  two  days. 
I  ask  you  as  a  stranger  —  going  to  the  West,"  he  said 
with  emphasis. 


350  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  Where  have  you  come  from?  "  said  I. 

"  From  the  East,"  said  he,  "  and  I  am  hoping  that  you 
will  give  him  the  message  on  the  Square  —  for  the  sake 
of  my  Mother  as  well  as  your  own." 

Englishmen  are  not  usually  softened  by  appeals  to 
the  memory  of  their  mothers ;  but  for  certain  reasons, 
which  will  be  fully  apparent,  I  saw  fit  to  agree. 

"  It 's  more  than  a  little  matter,"  said  he,  "  and  that 's 
why  I  asked  you  to  do  it  —  and  now  I  know  that  I  can 
depend  on  you  doing  it.  A  Second-class  carriage  at 
Marwar  Junction,  and  a  red-haired  man  asleep  in  it. 
You  Ml  be  sure  to  remember.  I  get  out  at  the  next 
station,  and  I  must  hold  on  there  till  he  comes  or  sends 
me  what  I  want." 

"  I  '11  give  the  message  if  I  catch  him,"  I  said,  "and 
for  the  sake  of  your  Mother  as  well  as  mine  I  '11  give 
you  a  word  of  advice.  Don't  try  to  run  the  Central 
India  States  just  now  as  the  correspondent  of  the  Back- 
woodsman. There  's  a  real  one  knocking  about  here, 
and  it  might  lead  to  trouble." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he  simply,  "  and  when  will  the 
swine  be  gone  ?  I  can't  starve  because  he  's  ruining 
my  work.  I  wanted  to  get  hold  of  the  Degumber 
Rajah  down  here  about  his  father's  widow,  and  give 
him  a  jump." 

"  What  did  he  do  to  his  father's  widow,  then?" 

"  Filled  her  up  with  red  pepper  and  slippered  her  to 
death  as  she  hung  from  a  beam.  I  found  that  out 
myself  and  I  'm  the  only  man  that  would  dare  going 
into  the  State  to  get  hush-money  for  it.  They  '11  try  to 
poison  me,  same  as  they  did  in  Chortumna  when  I 
went  on  the  loot  there.  But  you  '11  give  the  man  at 
Marwar  Junction  my  message  ?  " 

He  got  out  at  a  little  roadside  station,  and  I  reflected. 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     351 

I  had  heard,  more  than  once,  of  men  personating  corre- 
spondents of  newspapers  and  bleeding  small  Native 
States  with  threats  of  exposure,  but  I  had  never  met 
any  of  the  caste  before.  They  lead  a  hard  life,  and 
generally  die  with  great  suddenness.  The  Native  States 
have  a  wholesome  horror  of  English  newspapers,  which 
may  throw  light  on  their  peculiar  methods  of  govern- 
ment, and  do  their  best  to  choke  correspondents  with 
champagne,  or  drive  them  out  of  their  mind  with  four- 
in-hand  barouches.  They  do  not  understand  that  no- 
body cares  a  straw  for  the  internal  administration  of 
Native  States  so  long  as  oppression  and  crime  are  kept 
within  decent  limits,  and  the  ruler  is  not  drugged,  drunk, 
or  diseased  from  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other.  They 
are  the  dark  places  of  the  earth,  full  of  unimaginable 
cruelty,  touching  the  Railway  and  the  Telegraph  on  one 
side,  and,  on  the  other,  the  days  of  Harun-al-Raschid. 
When  I  left  the  train  I  did  business  with  divers  Kings, 
and  in  eight  days  passed  through  many  changes  of  life. 
Sometimes  I  wore  dress-clothes  and  consorted  with 
Princes  and  Politicals,  drinking  from  crystal  and  eating 
from  silver.  Sometimes  I  lay  out  upon  the  ground  and 
devoured  what  I  could  get,  from  a  plate  made  of  leaves, 
and  drank  the  running  water,  and  slept  under  the  same 
rug  as  my  servant.     It  was  all  in  the  day's  work. 

Then  I  headed  for  the  Great  Indian  Desert  upon  the 
proper  date,  as  I  had  promised,  and  the  night  Mail  set 
me  down  at  Marwar  Junction,  where  a  funny  little, 
happy-go-lucky,  native-managed  railway  runs  to  Jodh- 
pore.  The  Bombay  Mail  from  Delhi  makes  a  short 
halt  at  Marwar.  She  arrived  as  I  got  in,  and  I  had 
just  time  to  hurry  to  her  platform  and  go  down  the 
carriages.  There  was  only  one  Second-class  on  the 
train.     I  slipped  the  window  and  looked  down  upon  a 


352  Greatest  Short  Stories 

flaming  red  beard,  half  covered  by  a  railway  rug. 
That  was  my  man,  fast  asleep,  and  I  dug  him  gently  in 
the  ribs.  He  woke  with  a  grunt  and  I  saw  his  face  in 
the  light  of  the  lamps.     It  was  a  great  and  shining  face. 

"Tickets  again?"  said  he. 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  I  am  to  tell  you  that  he  is  gone  South 
for  the  week.     He  has  gone  South  for  the  week  !  " 

The  train  had  begun  to  move  out.  The  red  man 
rubbed  his  eyes.  "  He  has  gone  South  for  the  week," 
he  repeated.  "Now  that's  just  like  his  impidence. 
Did  he  say  that  I  was  to  give  you  anything?  'Cause 
I  won't." 

"He  didn't,"  I  said  and  dropped  away,  and  watched 
the  red  lights  die  out  in  the  dark.  It  was  horribly  cold 
because  the  wind  was  blowing  off"  the  sands.  I  climbed 
into  my  own  train  —  not  an  Intermediate  carriage  this 
time  —  and  went  to  sleep. 

If  the  man  with  the  beard  had  given  me  a  rupee  I 
should  have  kept  it  as  a  memento  of  a  rather  curious 
affair.  But  the  consciousness  of  having  done  my  duty 
was  my  only  reward. 

Later  on  I  reflected  that  two  gentlemen  like  my 
friends  could  not  do  any  good  if  they  forgathered  and 
personated  correspondents  of  newspapers,  and  might,  if 
they  blackmailed  one  of  the  little  rat-trap  states  of 
Central  India  or  Southern  Rajputana,  get  themselves 
into  serious  difficulties.  I  therefore  took  some  trouble 
to  describe  them  as  accurately  as  I  could  remember  to 
people  who  would  be  interested  in  deporting  them : 
and  succeeded,  so  I  was  later  informed,  in  having  them 
headed  back  from  the  Degumber  borders. 

Then  I  became  respectable,  and  returned  to  an  Office 
where  there  were  no  Kings  and  no  incidents  outside  the 
daily  manufacture   of  a  newspaper.     A  newspaper  office 


The   Man  Who  Would   Be   King     353 

seems  to  attract  every  conceivable  sort  of  person,  to  the 
prejudice  of  discipline.  Zenana-mission  ladies  arrive, 
and  beg  that  the  Editor  will  instantly  abandon  all  his 
duties  to  describe  a  Christian  prize-giving  in  a  back- 
slum  of  a  perfectly  inaccessible  village  ;  Colonels  who 
have  been  overpassed  for  command  sit  down  and  sketch 
the  outline  of  a  series  of  ten,  twelve,  or  twenty-four 
leading  articles  on  Seniority  versus  Selection ;  mission- 
aries wish  to  know  why  they  have  not  been  permitted  to 
escape  from  their  regular  vehicles  of  abuse  and  swear 
at  a  brother-missionary  under  special  patronage  of  the 
editorial  We  ;  stranded  theatrical  companies  troop  up  to 
explain  that  they  cannot  pay  for  their  advertisements, 
but  on  their  return  from  New  Zealand  or  Tahiti  will  do 
so  with  interest ;  inventors  of  patent  punkah-pulling 
machines,  carriage  couplings  and  unbreakable  swords 
and  axle-trees  call  with  specifications  in  their  pockets 
and  hours  at  their  disposal ;  tea-companies  enter  and 
elaborate  their  prospectuses  with  the  office  pens ;  sec- 
retaries of  ball-committees  clamor  to  have  the  glories 
of  their  last  dance  more  fully  described  ;  strange  ladies 
rustle  in  and  say  :  "  I  want  a  hundred  lady's  cards  printed 
at  once,  please,"  which  is  manifestly  part  of  an  Editor's 
duty ;  and  every  dissolute  ruffian  that  ever  tramped  the 
Grand  Trunk  Road  makes  it  his  business  to  ask  for 
employment  as  a  proof-reader.  And,  all  the  time,  the 
telephone-bell  is  ringing  madly,  and  Kings  are  being 
killed  on  the  Continent,  and  Empires  are  saying  — 
"  You  're  another,"  and  Mister  Gladstone  is  calling  down 
brimstone  upon  the  British  Dominions,  and  the  little 
black  copy-boys  are  whining,  "  kaa-pi  chay-ha-yeh  " 
(copy  wanted)  like  tired  bees,  and  most  of  the  paper  is 
as  blank  as  Modred's  shield. 

But  that  is  the  amusing  part  of  the  year.     There  are 
23 


354  Greatest  Short  Stories 

six  other  months  when  none  ever  come  to  call,  and  the 
thermometer  walks  inch  by  inch  up  to  the  top  of  the 
glass,  and  the  ofifice  is  darkened  to  just  above  reading- 
light,  and  the  press- machines  are  red-hot  of  touch,  and 
nobody  writes  anything  but  accounts  of  amusements  in 
the  Hill-stations  or  obituary  notices.  Then  the  tele- 
phone becomes  a  tinkling  terror,  because  it  tells  you  of 
the  sudden  deaths  of  men  and  women  that  you  knew 
intimately,  and  the  prickly-heat  covers  you  with  a  gar- 
ment, and  you  sit  down  and  write  :  "  A  slight  increase  of 
sickness  is  reported  from  the  Khuda  Janta  Khan 
District.  The  outbreak  is  purely  sporadic  in  its  nature, 
and,  thanks  to  the  energetic  efforts  of  the  District 
authorities,  is  now  almost  at  an  end.  It  is,  however, 
with  deep  regret  we  record  the  death,"  etc. 

Then  the  sickness  really  breaks  out,  and  the  less 
recording  and  reporting  the  better  for  the  peace  of  the 
subscribers.  But  the  Empires  and  the  Kings  continue 
to  divert  themselves  as  selfishly  as  before,  and  the 
Foreman  thinks  that  a  daily  paper  really  ought  to  come 
out  once  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  all  the  people  at  the 
Hill-stations  in  the  middle  of  their  amusements  say  : 
"Good  gracious!  Why  can't  the  paper  be  sparkling? 
I  'm  sure  there  's  plenty  going  on  up  here." 

That  is  the  dark  half  of  the  moon,  and,  as  the  adver- 
tisements say,  "  must  be  experienced  to  be  appreciated." 
'  It  was  in  that  season,  and  a  remarkably  evil  season, 
that  the  paper  began  running  the  last  issue  of  the  week 
on  Saturday  night,  which  is  to  say  Sunday  morning,  after 
the  custom  of  a  London  paper.  This  was  a  great  con- 
venience, for  immediately  after  the  paper  was  put  to 
bed,  the  dawn  would  lower  the  thermometer  from  96°  to 
almost  84°  for  half  an  hour,  and  in  that  chill  —  you 
have  no  idea  how  cold  is  84°   on  the  grass  until  you 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be   King     355 

begin  to  pray  for  it  —  a  very  tired  man  could  get  off  to 
sleep  ere  the  heat  roused  him. 

One  Saturday  night  it  was  my  pleasant  duty  to  put  the 
paper  to  bed  alone.  A  King  or  courtier  or  a  courtesan  or 
a  Community  was  going  to  die  or  get  a  new  Constitution, 
or  do  something  that  was  important  on  the  other  side  of 
the  world,  and  the  paper  was  to  be  held  open  till  the 
latest  possible  minute  in  order  to  catch  the  telegram. 

It  was  a  pitchy  black  night,  as  stifling  as  a  June  night 
can  be,  and  the  loo,  the  red-hot  wind  from  the  west- 
ward, was  booming  among  the  tinder-dry  trees  and 
pretending  that  the  rain  was  on  its  heels.  Now  and 
again  a  spot  of  almost  boiling  water  would  fall  on  the 
dust  with  the  flop  of  a  frog,  but  all  our  weary  world 
knew  that  was  only  pretence.  It  was  a  shade  cooler  in 
the  press-room  than  the  office,  so  I  sat  there,  while  the 
type  ticked  and  clicked,  and  the  night-jars  hooted  at 
the  windows,  and  the  all  but  naked  compositors  wiped 
the  sweat  from  their  foreheads,  and  called  for  water.  The 
thing  that  was  keeping  us  back,  whatever  it  was,  would 
not  come  off,  though  the  loo  dropped  and  the  last  type 
was  set,  and  the  whole  round  earth  stood  still  in  the 
choking  heat,  with  its  finger  on  its  lip,  to  wait  the  event. 
I  drowsed,  and  wondered  whether  the  telegraph  was  a 
blessing,  and  whether  this  dying  man,  or  struggling 
people,  might  be  aware  of  the  inconvenience  the  delay 
was  causing.  There  was  no  special  reason  beyond  the 
heat  and  worry  to  make  tension,  but,  as  the  clock-hands 
crept  up  to  three  o'clock  and  the  machines  spun  their 
fly-wheels  two  and  three  times  to  see  that  all  was  in 
order,  before  I  said  the  word  that  would  set  them  off,  I 
could  have  shrieked  aloud. 

Then  the  roar  and  rattle  of  the  wheels  shivered  the 
quiet  into  little  bits.     I  rose  to  go  away,  but  two  men 


356  Greatest  Short  Stories 

in  white  clothes  stood  in  front  of  me.  The  first  one 
said  :  "  It  's  him  !  "  The  second  said  :  "  So  it  is  !  "  And 
they  both  laughed  almost  as  loudly  as  the  machinery 
roared,  and  mopped  their  foreheads.  "  We  seed  there 
was  a  light  burning  across  the  road  and  we  were  sleeping  in 
that  ditch  there  for  coolness,  and  I  said  to  my  friend  here, 
The  office  is  open.  Let 's  come  along  and  speak  to  him 
as  turned  us  back  from  the  Degumber  State,"  said  the 
smaller  of  the  two.  He  was  the  man  I  had  met  in  the 
Mhow  train,  and  his  fellow  was  the  red-bearded  man  of 
Marwar  Junction.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  eye- 
brows of  the  one  or  the  beard  of  the  other. 

I  was  not  pleased,  because  I  wished  to  go  to  sleep, 
not  to  squabble  with  loafers.  "  What  do  you  want?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Half  an  hour's  talk  with  you,  cool  and  comfortable, 
in  the  office,"  said  the  red-bearded  man.  "  We  'd  like 
some  drink  —  the  Contrack  does  n't  begin  yet,  Peachey, 
so  you  need  n't  look  —  but  what  we  really  want  is  advice. 
We  don't  want  money.  We  ask  you  as  a  favor,  because 
we  found  out  you  did  us  a  bad  turn  about  Degumber 
State." 

I  led  from  the  press-room  to  the  stifling  office  with  the 
maps  on  the  walls,  and  the  red-haired  man  rubbed  his 
hands.  "  That 's  something  like,"  said  he.  "  This  was 
the  proper  shop  to  come  to.  Now,  Sir,  let  me  introduce 
to  you  Brother  Peachey  Carnehan,  that 's  him,  and  Brother 
Daniel  Dravot,  that  is  me,  and  the  less  said  about  our 
professions  the  better,  for  we  have  been  most  things  in 
our  time.  Soldier,  sailor,  compositor,  photographer, 
proof-reader,  street-preacher,  and  correspondents  of  the 
Backwoodsman  when  we  thought  the  paper  wanted  one. 
Carnehan  is  sober,  and  so  am  I.  Look  at  us  first,  and 
see  that 's  sure.     It  will  save  you  cutting  into  my  talk. 


1 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     357 

We  '11  take  one  of  your  cigars  apiece,  and  you  shall  see 
us  light  up." 

I  watched  the  test.  The  men  were  absolutely  sober, 
so  I  gave  them  each  a  tepid  whiskey  and  soda. 

"  Well  rt-w^good,"  said  Camehan  of  the  eyebrows,  wiping 
the  froth  from  his  moustache.  "  Let  me  talk  now,  Dan. 
We  have  been  all  over  India,  mostly  on  foot.  We  have 
been  boiler-fitters,  engine-drivers,  petty  contractors,  and 
all  that,  and  we  have  decided  that  India  is  n't  big  enough 
for  such  as  us," 

They  certainly  were  too  big  for  the  office.  Dravot's 
beard  seemed  to  fill  half  the  room  and  Carnehan's  shoul- 
ders the  other  half,  as  they  sat  on  the  big  table.  Carnehan 
continued  :  "  The  country  is  n't  half  worked  out  because 
they  that  governs  it  won't  let  you  touch  it.  They  spend 
all  their  blessed  time  in  governing  it,  and  you  can't  lift  a 
spade,  nor  chip  a  rock,  nor  look  for  oil,  nor  anything  like 
that  without  all  the  Government  saying  —  '  Leave  it 
alone,  and  let  us  govern.'  Therefore,  such  as  it  is,  we 
will  let  it  alone,  and  go  away  to  some  other  place  where 
a  man  is  n't  crowded  and  can  come  to  his  own.  We  are 
not  little  men,  and  there  is  nothing  that  we  are  afraid  of 
except  Drink,  and  we  have  signed  a  Contrack  on  that. 
Therefore,  we  are  going  away  to  be  Kings." 

"  Kings  in  our  own  right,"  muttered  Dravot. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  I  said.  "  You'  ve  been  tramping  in 
the  sun,  and  it 's  a  very  warm  night,  and  had  n't  you  bet- 
ter sleep  over  the  notion?     Come  to-morrow." 

"  Neither  drunk  nor  sunstruck,"  said  Dravot.  "  We 
have  slept  over  the  notion  half  a  year,  and  require 
to  see  Books  and  Atlases,  and  we  have  decided  that 
there  is  only  one  place  now  in  the  world  that  two  strong 
men  can  S2ir-s.-whack.  They  call  it  Kafiristan.  By  my 
reckoning  it 's  the  top  right-hand  corner  of  Afghanistan, 


358  Greatest  Short  Stories 

not  more  than  three  hundred  miles  from  Peshawar. 
They  have  two-and-thirty  heathen  idols  there,  and 
we  '11  be  the  thirty-third  and  fourth.  It 's  a  mountain- 
eous  country,  and  the  women  of  those  parts  are  very 
beautiful." 

"  But  that  is  provided  against  in  the  Contrack,"  said 
Carnehan.     "  Neither  Woman  nor  Liqu-or,  Daniel." 

*'  And  that 's  all  we  know,  except  that  no  one  has  gone 
there,  and  they  fight,  and  in  any  place  where  they  fight 
a  man  who  knows  how  to  drill  men  can  always  be  a  King. 
We  shall  go  to  those  parts  and  say  to  any  King  we  find 
— '  D' you  want  to  vanquish  your  foes?'  and  we  will 
show  him  how  to  drill  men  ;  for  that  we  know  better  than 
anything  else.  Then  we  will  subvert  that  King  and  seize 
his  Throne  and  establish  a  Dy-nasty." 

"  You  '11  be  cut  to  pieces  before  you  're  fifty  miles 
across  the  Border,"  I  said.  "  You  have  to  travel  through 
Afghanistan  to  get  to  that  country.  It  's  one  mass  of 
mountains  and  peaks  and  glaciers,  and  no  Englishman 
has  been  through  it.  The  people  are  utter  brutes,  and 
even  if  you  reached  them  you  could  n't  do  anything." 

"  That 's  more  like,"  said  Carnehan.  "  If  you  could 
think  us  a  little  more  mad  we  would  be  more  pleased. 
We  have  come  to  you  to  know  about  this  country,  to  read 
a  book  about  it,  and  to  be  shown  maps.  We  want  you 
to  tell  us  that  we  are  fools  and  to  show  us  your  books." 
He  turned  to  the  book-cases. 

"  Are  you  at  all  in  earnest?  "  I  said. 

"  A  little,"  said  Dravot  sweetly.  "  As  big  a  mapas  you 
have  got,  even  if  it 's  all  blank  where  Kafiristan  is,  and 
any  books  you  've  got.  W' e  can  read,  though  we  are  n't 
very  educated." 

I  uncased  the  big  thirty- two- miles-to-the-inch  map  of 
India,  and  two  smal\er  Frontier  maps,  hauled  down  vol- 


The  Man  Who  Would   Be  King     359 

ume  INF-KAN  of  the  Encyclopedia  Bnfannica,  and  the 
men  consulted  them. 

"  See  here  !  "  said  Dravot,  his  thumb  on  the  map.  "  Up 
to  Jagdallak,  Peachey  and  me  know  the  road.  We  was 
there  with  Roberts's  Army.  We  '11  have  to  turn  off  to  the 
right  at  Jagdallak  through  Laghmann  territory.  Then  we 
get  among  the  hills  —  fourteen  thousand  feet  —  fifteen 
thousand  —  it  will  be  cold  work  there,  but  it  don't  look 
very  far  on  the  map." 

I  handed  him  Wood  on  the  Sources  of  the  Oxus. 
Carnehan  was  deep  in  the  E?icyclopcedia. 

"  They  're  a  mixed  lot,"  said  Dravot  reflectively ;  "  and 
it  won't  help  us  to  know  the  names  of  their  tribes.  The 
more  tribes  the  more  they  '11  fight,  and  the  better  for  us. 
From  Jagdallak  to  Ashang.     H'mm  ! " 

"  But  all  the  information  about  the  country  is  as 
sketchy  and  inaccurate  as  can  be,"  I  protested.  "  No 
one  knows  anything  about  it  really.  Here 's  the  file 
of  the  United  Services^  Institute.  Read  what  Bellew 
says." 

"  Blow  Bellew  !  "  said  Carnehan.  "  Dan,  they  're  a 
stinkin'  lot  of  heathens,  but  this  book  here  says  they 
think  they  're  related  to  us  English." 

I  smoked  while  the  men  pored  over  Raverty,  Wood, 
the  maps,  and  the  Encyclopcedia. 

"  There  is  no  use  your  waiting,"  said  Dravot  politely. 
"It's  about  four  o'clock  now.  We'll  go  before  six 
o'clock  if  you  want  to  sleep,  and  we  won't  steal  any 
of  the  papers.  Don't  you  sit  up.  We  're  two  harm- 
less lunatics,  and  if  you  come  to-morrow  evening  down 
to  the  Serai  we  '11  say  good-bye  to  you." 

"  You  are  two  fools,"  I  answered.  "  You  '11  be  turned 
back  at  the  Frontier  or  cut  up  the  minute  you  set  foot 
in  Afghanistan.     Do  you  want  any  money  or  a  recom- 


360  Greatest  Short  Stories 

mendation  down-country?  I  can  help  you  to  the  chance 
of  work  next  week." 

"  Next  week  we  shall  be  hard  at  work  ourselves^  thank 
you,"  said  Dravot.  "  It  is  n't  so  easy  being  a  King  as  it 
looks.  When  we  've  got  our  Kingdom  in  going  order 
we  '11  let  you  know,  and  you  can  come  up  and  help  us  to 
govern  it." 

"  Would  two  lunatics  make  a  Contrack  like  that?  "  said 
Carnehan,  with  subdued  pride,  showing  me  a  greasy  half- 
sheet  of  notepaper  on  which  was  written  the  following. 
I  copied  it,  then  and  there,  as  a  curiosity  — 

This  Co7itract  between  me  and  you  persuing  wttnesseth 
in  the  name  of  God  —  Amen  a  fid  so  forth. 

(  One)  That  me  atid  you  will  settle  this  matter  to- 
gether;  i.  e.,  to  be  Kings  of  Kafiristan. 

(  Two)  That  you  and  me  will  tiot,  7vhile  this  matter 
is  being  settled,  look  at  any  Liquor,  nor 
any  Woman  blaek,  white,  or  brown,  so 
as  to  get  mixed  up  tuith  one  or  the  other 
harmful. 

{Three)    That  we  condtiet  ourselves  with   Dignity 
and  Discretioji,  and  if  one  of  us  gets  into 
trouble  the  other  will  stay  by  him. 
Signed  by  you  and  fne  this  day. 

Peachey  Taliaferro  Carnehan. 

Daniel  Dravot. 

Both  Getitlemen  at  Large. 

"  There  was  no  need  for  the  last  article,"  said  Carnehan, 
blushing  modestly  ;  "  but  it  looks  regular.  Now  you  know 
the  sort  of  men  that  loafers  are  —  we  are  loafers,  Dan, 
until  we  get  out  of  India  —  and  do  you  think  that  we 
would  sign  a  Contrack  like  that  unless  we  was  in  earnest  ? 


The  Man  Who  Would  T^fe   King     361 

We  have  kept  away  from  the  two  things  that  make  life 
worth  having." 

"  You  won't  enjoy  your  Hves  much  longer  if  you  are 
going  to  try  this  idiotic  adventure.  Don't  set  the  office 
on  fire,"  I  said,  '-■  and  go  away  before  nine  o'clock." 

I  left  them  still  poring  over  the  maps  and  making 
notes  on  the  back  of  the  "  Contrack."  "  Be  sure  to  come 
down  to  the  Serai  to-morrow,"  were  their  parting  words. 

The  Kumharsen  Serai  is  the  great  four-square  sink  of 
humanity  where  the  strings  of  camels  and  horses  from 
the  North  load  and  unload.  All  the  nationalities  of 
Centr.il  Asia  may  be  found  there,  and  most  of  the  folk 
of  India  proper.  Balkh  and  Bokhara  there  meet  Bengal 
and  Bombay,  and  try  to  draw  eye-teeth.  You  can  buy 
ponies,  turquoises,  Persian  pussy-cats,  saddle-bags,  fat- 
tailed  sheep  and  musk  in  the  Kumharsen  Serai,  and  get 
many  strange  things  for  nothing.  In  the  afternoon  I 
went  down  to  see  whether  my  friends  intended  to  keep 
their  word  or  were  lying  there  drunk. 

A  priest  attired  in  fragments  of  ribbons  and  rags 
stalked  up  to  me,  gravely  twisting  a  child's  paper  whirli- 
gig. Behind  him  was  his  servant  bending  under  the 
load  of  a  crate  of  mud  toys.  The  two  were  loading  up 
two  camels,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  Serai  watched 
them  with  shrieks  of  laughter. 

"The  priest  is  mad,"  said  a  horse-dealer  to  me.  "  He 
is  going  up  to  Kabul  to  sell  toys  to  the  Amir.  He  will 
either  be  raised  to  honor  or  have  his  head  cut  off.  He 
came  in  here  this  morning  and  has  been  behaving  madly 
ever  since." 

"  The  witless  are  under  the  protection  of  God,"  stam- 
mered a  flat-cheeked  Usbeg  in  broken  Hindi.  "  They 
foretell  future  events." 

"  Would   they  could   have  foretold   that  my  caravan 


362  Greatest  Short  Stories 

would  have  been  cut  up  by  the  Shinwaris  almost  within 
shadow  of  the  Pass  !  "  grunted  the  Eusufzai  agent  of  a 
Rajputana  trading-house  whose  goods  had  been  diverted 
into  the  hands  of  other  robbers  just  across  the  Border, 
and  whose  misfortunes  were  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
bazar.  "  Oh(^,  priest,  whence  come  you  and  whither  do 
you  go?  " 

"  From  Roum  have  I  come,"  shouted  the  priest,  wav- 
ing his  whirligig ;  "  from  Roum,  blown  by  the  breath  of 
a  hundred  devils  across  the  sea  1  O  thieves,  robbers, 
liars,  the  blessing  of  Pir  Khan  on  pigs,  dogs,  and  per- 
jurers !  Who  will  take  the  Protected  of  God  to  the 
North  to  sell  charms  that  are  never  still  to  the  Amir? 
The  camels  shall  not  gall,  the  sons  shall  not  fall  sick, 
and  the  wives  shall  remain  faithful  while  they  are  away, 
of  the  men  who  give  me  place  in  their  caravan.  Who 
will  assist  me  to  slipper  the  King  of  the  Roos  with  a 
golden  slipper  with  a  silver  heel?  The  protection  of 
Pir  Khan  be  upon  his  labors  1  "  He  spread  out  the 
skirts  of  his  gaberdine  and  pirouetted  between  the  lines 
of  tethered  horses. 

"  There  starts  a  caravan  from  Peshawar  to  Kabul  in 
twenty  days,  Huz7'ut,^^  said  the  Eusufzai  trader.  "  My 
camels  go  therewith.  Do  thou  also  go  and  bring  us 
good-luck." 

"  I  will  go  even  now  !  "  shouted  the  priest.  "  I  will 
depart  upon  my  winged  camels,  and  be  at  Peshawar  in  a 
day  !  Ho  !  Hazar  Mir  Khan,"  he  yelled  to  his  servant, 
"  drive  out  the  camels,  but  let  me  first  mount  my  own." 

He  leaped  on  the  back  of  his  beast  as  it  knelt,  and, 
turning  round  to  me,  cried  :  "  Come  thou  also,  Sahib,  a 
little  along  the  road,  and  I  will  sell  thee  a  charm  —  an 
amulet  that  shall  make  thee  King  of  Kafiristan." 

Then  the  light  broke  upon  me,  and  I  followed  the  two 


The   Man  Who  Would  Be   King     363 

camels  out  of  the  Serai  till  we  reached  open  road  and 
the  priest  halted. 

"What  d' you  think  o'  that?"  said  he  in  English. 
"  Carnehan  can't  talk  their  patter,  so  I  've  made  him  my 
servant.  He  makes  a  handsome  servant.  'T  is  n't  for 
nothing  that  I  've  been  knocking  about  the  country  for 
fourteen  years.  Didn't  I  do  that  talk  neat?  We'll 
hitch  on  to  a  caravan  at  Peshawar  till  we  get  to  Jagdal- 
lak,  and  then  we  '11  see  if  we  can  get  donkeys  for  our 
camels,  and  strike  into  Kafiristan.  Whirligigs  for  the 
Amir,  O  Lor  !  Put  your  hand  under  the  camel-bags 
and  tell  me  what  you  feel." 

I  felt  the  butt  of  a  Martini,  and  another  and  another. 

"  Twenty  of  'em,"  said  Dravot  placidly.  "  Twenty  of 
'em  and  ammunition  to  correspond,  under  the  whirligigs 
and  the  mud  dolls." 

"  Heaven  help  you  if  you  are  caught  with  those  things  !  " 
I  said.  "  A  Martini  is  worth  her  weight  in  silver  among 
the  Pathans." 

"  Fifteen  hundred  rupees  of  capital  —  every  rupee  we 
could  beg,  borrow,  or  steal  —  are  invested  on  these  two 
camels,"  said  Dravot.  "  We  won't  get  caught.  We  're 
going  through  the  Khaiber  with  a  regular  caravan. 
Who'd  touch  a  poor  mad  priest?" 

"  Have  you  got  everything  you  want?  "  I  asked,  over- 
come with  astonishment. 

"  Not  yet,  but  we  shall  soon.  Give  us  a  memento  of 
your  kindness,  Brother.  You  did  me  a  service,  yester- 
day, and  that  time  in  Marwar.  Half  my  Kingdom  shall 
you  have,  as  the  saying  is."  I  slipped  a  small  charm 
compass  from  my  watch  chain  and  handed  it  up  to  the 
priest. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Dravot,  giving  me  hand  cautiously. 
"  It 's  the  last  time  we  '11  shake  hands  with  an  English- 


364  Greatest  Short  Stories 

man  these  many  days.  Shake  hands  with  him,  Came- 
han,"  he  cried,  as  the  second  camel  passed  me. 

Carnehan  leaned  down  and  shook  hands.  Then  the 
camels  passed  away  along  the  dusty  road,  and  I  was 
left  alone  to  wonder.  My  eye  could  detect  no  failure 
in  the  disguises.  The  scene  in  the  Serai  proved  that 
they  were  complete  to  the  native  mind.  There  was 
just  the  chance,  therefore,  that  Carnehan  and  Dravot 
would  be  able  to  wander  through  Afghanistan  without 
detection.  But,  beyond,  they  would  find  death  —  cer- 
tain  and   awful  death. 

Ten  days  later  a  native  correspondent  giving  me  the 
news  of  the  day  from  Peshawar,  wound  up  his  letter 
with  :  "  There  has  been  much  laughter  here  on  account 
of  a  certain  mad  priest  who  is  going  in  his  estimation 
to  sell  petty  gauds  and  insignificant  trinkets  which  he 
ascribes  as  great  charms  to  H.H.  the  Amir  of  Bokhara. 
He  passed  through  Peshawar  and  associated  himself  to 
the  Second  Summer  caravan  that  goes  to  Kabul.  The 
merchants  are  pleased  because  through  superstition  they 
imagine  that  such  mad  fellows  bring  good-fortune." 

The  two,  then,  were  beyond  the  Border.  I  would  have 
prayed  for  them,  but,  that  night,  a  real  King  died  in 
Europe,  and  demanded  an  obituary  notice. 

The  wheel  of  the  world  swings  through  the  same  phases 
again  and  again.  Summer  passed  and  winter  thereafter, 
and  came  and  passed  again.  The  daily  paper  continued 
and  I  with  it,  and  upon  the  third  summer  there  fell  a 
hot  night,  a  night-issue,  and  a  strained  waiting  for  some- 
thing to  be  telegraphed  from  the  other  side  of  the  world, 
exactly  as  had  happened  before.  A  few  great  men  had 
died  in  the  past  two  years,  the  machines  worked  with 
more   clatter,    and    some    of    the    trees   in    the    Office 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     365 

garden  were  a  few  feet  taller.  But  that  was  all  the 
difference. 

I  passed  over  to  the  press-room,  and  went  through 
just  such  a  scene  as  I  have  already  described.  The 
nervous  tension  was  stronger  than  it  had  been  two  years 
before,  and  I  felt  the  heat  more  acutely.  At  three  o'clock 
I  cried,  "  Print  off,"  and  turned  to  go,  when  there  crept 
to  my  chair  what  was  left  of  a  man.  He  was  bent  into  a 
circle,  his  head  was  sunk  between  his  shoulders,  and  he 
moved  his  feet  one  over  the  other  like  a  bear.  I  could 
hardly  see  whether  he  walked  or  crawled  —  this  rag- 
wrapped,  whining  cripple  who  addressed  me  by  name, 
crying  that  he  was  come  back.  "  Can  you  give  me  a 
drink?  "  he  whimpered.  "  For  the  Lord's  sake,  give  me 
a  drink  !  " 

I  went  back  to  the  office,  the  man  following  with 
groans  of  pain,  and  I  turned  up  the  lamp. 

"  Don't  you  know  me?  "  he  gasped,  dropping  into  a 
chair,  and  he  turned  his  drawn  face,  surmounted  by  a 
shock  of  gray  hair,  to  the  light. 

I  looked  at  him  intently.  Once  before  had  I  seen 
eyebrows  that  met  over  the  nose  in  an  inch-broad 
black  band,  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  tell 
where. 

"  I  don't  know  you,"  I  said,  handing  him  the  whiskey. 
"  What  can  I  do  for  you?  " 

He  took  a  gulp  of  the  spirit  raw,  and  shivered  in  spite 
of  the  suffocating  heat. 

"  I  've  come  back,"  he  repeated  ;  "  and  I  was  the  King 
of  Kafiristan  —  me  and  Dravot  —  crowned  Kings  we 
was  !  In  this  office  we  settled  it  —  you  setting  there 
and  giving  us  the  books.  I  am  Peachey  —  Peachey 
Taliaferro  Carnehan,  and  you  've  been  setting  here  ever 
since  —  O  Lord  1  " 


366  Cireatest  Short  Stories 

I  was  more  than  a  little  astonished,  and  expressed  my 
feelings  accordingly. 

"  It 's  true,"  said  Carnehan,  with  a  dry  cackle,  nursing 
his  feet,  which  were  wrapped  in  rags.  "  True  as  gospel. 
Kings  we  were,  with  crowns  upon  our  heads  —  me  and 
Dravot  —  poor  Dan  —  oh,  poor,  poor  Dan,  that  would 
never  take  advice,  not  though  I  begged  of  him  !  " 

"Take  the  whiskey,"  I  said,  "  and  take  your  own  time. 
Tell  me  all  you  can  recollect  of  everything  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  You  got  across  the  border  on  your  camels, 
Dravot  dressed  as  a  mad  priest  and  you  his  servant.  Do 
you  remember  that?  " 

"  I  ain't  mad  —  yet,  but  I  shall  be  that  way  soon.  Of 
course  I  remember.  Keep  looking  at  me,  or  maybe  my 
words  will  go  all  to  pieces.  Keep  looking  at  me  in  my 
eyes  and  don't  say  anything." 

I  leaned  forward  and  looked  into  his  face  as  steadily 
as  1  could.  He  dropped  one  hand  upon  the  table  and  I 
grasped  it  by  the  wrist.  It  was  twisted  like  a  bird's  claw, 
and  upon  the  back  was  a  ragged,  red,  diamond-shaped 
scar. 

"  No,  don't  look  there.  Look  at  ;«<?,"  said  Carnehan. 
"That  comes  afterwards,  but  for  the  Lord's  sake  don't 
distrack  me.  We  left  with  that  caravan,  me  and  Dravot 
playing  all  sorts  of  antics  to  amuse  the  people  we  were 
with.  Dravot  used  to  make  us  laugh  in  the  evenings 
when  all  the  people  was  cooking  their  dinners  —  cooking 
their  dinners,  and  .  .  .  what  did  they  do  then?  They 
lit  little  fires  with  sparks  that  went  into  Dravot's  beard, 
and  we  all  laughed  —  fit  to  die.  Little  red  fires  they 
was,  going  into  Dravot's  big  red  beard  —  so  funny."  His 
eyes  left  mine  and  he  smiled  foolishly. 

"  You  went  as  far  as  Jagdallak  with  that  caravan,"  I 
said  at  a  venture,  "  after  you  had   lit  those  fires.     To 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     367 

Jagdallak,  where  you  turned  off  to  try  to  get  into 
Kafiristan," 

"  No,  we  did  n't  neither.  What  are  you  talking  about? 
We  turned  off  before  Jagdallak,  because  we  heard  the 
roads  was  good.  But  they  was  n't  good  enough  for  our 
two  camels  —  mine  and  Dravot's.  When  we  left  the 
caravan,  Dravot  took  off  all  his  clothes  and  mine  too, 
and  said  we  would  be  heathen,  because  the  Kafirs  didn't 
allow  Mohammedans  to  talk  to  them.  So  we  dressed 
betwixt  and  between,  and  such  a  sight  as  Daniel  Dravot 
I  never  saw  yet  nor  expect  to  see  again.  He  burned 
half  his  beard,  and  slung  a  sheep-skin  over  his  shoulder, 
and  shaved  his  head  into  patterns.  He  shaved  mine,  too, 
and  made  me  wear  outrageous  things  to  look  like  a 
heathen.  That  was  in  a  most  mountaineous  country, 
and  our  camels  could  n't  go  along  any  more  because  of 
the  mountains.  They  were  tall  and  black,  and  coming 
home  I  saw  them  fight  like  wild  goats  —  there  are  lots 
of  goats  in  Kafiristan.  And  these  mountains,  they 
nev^er  keep  still,  no  more  than  the  goats.  Always 
fighting  they  are,  and  don't  let  you  sleep  at  night." 

"  Take  some  jiiore  whiskey,"  I  said  very  slowly. 
"What  did  you  and  Daniel  Dravot  do  when  the  camels 
could  go  no  further  because  of  the  rough  roads  that  led 
into  Kafiristan?  " 

"What  did  which  do?  There  was  a  party  called 
Peachey  Taliaferro  Carnehan  that  was  with  Dravot. 
Shall  I  tell  you  about  him?  He  died  out  there  in  the 
cold.  Slap  from  the  bridge  fell  old  Peachey,  turning 
and  twisting  in  the  air  like  a  penny  whirligig  that  you 
can  sell  to  the  Amir.  —  No ;  they  was  two  for  three 
ha'pence,  those  whirligigs,  or  I  am  much  mistaken  and 
woeful  sore.  .  .  .  And  then  these  camels  were  no  use, 
and   Peachey   said  to   Dravot  — '  For  the   Lord's   sake 


o 


68  Greatest  Short  Stories 


let 's  get  out  of  this  before  our  heads  are  chopped  off,' 
and  with  that  they  killed  the  camels  all  among  the 
mountains,  not  having  anything  in  particular  to  eat,  but 
first  they  took  off  the  boxes  with  the  guns  and  the  am- 
munition, till  two  men  came  along  driving  four  mules. 
Dravot  up  and  dances  in  front  of  them,  singing  — '  Sell 
me  four  mules.'  Says  the  first  man  — '  If  you  are 
rich  enough  to  buy,  you  are  rich  enough  to  rob ; '  but 
before  ever  he  could  put  his  hand  to  his  knife, 
Dravot  breaks  his  neck  over  his  knee,  and  the  other 
party  runs  away.  So  Carnehan  loaded  the  mules  with 
the  rifles  that  was  taken  off  the  camels,  and  together 
we  starts  forward  into  those  bitter  cold  mountaineous 
parts,  and  never  a  road  broader  than  the  back  of  your 
hand." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  while  I  asked  him  if  he 
could  remember  the  nature  of  the  country  through  which 
he  had  journeyed. 

"  I  am  telling  you  as  straight  as  I  can,  but  my  head 
is  n't  as  good  as  it  might  be.  They  drove  nails  through 
it  to  make  me  hear  better  how  Dravot  died.  The 
country  was  mountaineous  and  the  mules  were  most 
contrary,  and  the  inhabitants  was  dispersed  and  solitary. 
They  went  up  and  up,  and  down  and  down,  and  that 
other  party,  Carnehan,  was  imploring  of  Dravot  not  to 
sing  and  whistle  so  loud,  for  fear  of  bringing  down  the 
tremenjus  avalanches.  But  Dravot  says  that  if  a  King 
could  n't  sing  it  was  n't  worth  being  King,  and  whacked 
the  mules  over  the  rump,  and  never  took  no  heed  for  ten 
cold  days.  We  came  to  a  big  level  valley  all  among  the 
mountains,  and  the  mules  were  near  dead,  so  we  killed 
them,  not  having  anything  in  special  for  them  or  us  to 
eat.  We  sat  upon  the  boxes,  and  played  odd  and  even 
with  the  cartridges  that  was  jolted  out. 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     369 

"  Then  ten  men  with  bows  and  arrows  ran  down  that 
valley,  chasing  twenty  men  with  bows  and  arrows,  and 
the  row  was  tremenjus.  They  was  fair  men  —  fairer  than 
you  or  me  —  with  yellow  hair  and  remarkable  well  built. 
Says  Dravot,  unpacking  the  guns  — '  This  is  the  begin- 
ning of  the  business.  We  '11  fight  for  the  ten  men,'  and 
with  that  he  fires  two  rifles  at  the  twenty  men,  and  drops 
one  of  them  at  two  hundred  yards  from  the  rock  where  he 
was  sitting.  The  other  men  began  to  run,  but  Carnehan 
and  Dravot  sits  on  the  boxes  picking  them  off  at  all  ranges, 
up  and  down  the  valley.  Then  we  goes  up  to  the  ten  men 
that  had  run  across  the  snow  too,  and  they  fires  a  footy  little 
arrow  at  us.  Dravot  he  shoots  above  their  heads  and 
they  all  falls  down  flat.  Then  he  walks  over  them  and 
kicks  them,  and  then  he  lifts  them  up  and  shakes  hands 
all  round  to  make  them  friendly  like.  He  calls  them 
and  gives  them  the  boxes  to  carry,  and  waves  his  hand 
for  all  the  world  as  though  he  was  King  already.  They 
takes  the  boxes  and  him  across  the  valley  and  up  the  hill 
into  a  pine  wood  on  the  top,  where  there  was  half  a 
dozen  big  stone  idols.  Dravot  he  goes  to  the  biggest  — 
a  fellow  they  call  Imbra  —  and  lays  a  rifle  and  a  car- 
tridge at  his  feet,  rubbing  his  nose  respectful  with  his 
own  nose,  patting  him  on  the  head,  and  saluting  in  front 
of  it.  He  turns  round  to  the  men  and  nods  his  head, 
and  says  —  'That's  all  right.  I'm  in  the  know  too, 
and  all  these  old  jim-jams  are  my  friends.'  Then 
he  opens  his  mouth  and  points  down  it,  and  when  the 
first  man  brings  him  food,  he  says  —  '  No ;  '  and  when 
the  second  man  brings  him  food,  he  says  — '  No  ; '  but 
when  one  of  the  old  priests  and  the  boss  of  the  village 
brings  him  food,  he  says  — '  Yes,'  very  haughty,  and 
eats  it  slow.  That  was  how  we  came  to  our  first 
village,  without  any  trouble,  just  as  though  we  had  tum- 

24 


370  Greatest  Sliort  Stones 

bled  from  the  skies.  But  we  tumbled  from  one  of  those 
damned  rope-bridges,  you  see,  and  —  you  couldn't  ex- 
pect a  man  to  laugh  much  after  that?  " 

"  Take  some  more  whiskey  and  go  on,"  I  said.  "  That 
was  the  first  village  you  came  into.  How  did  you  get 
to  be  King?  " 

"  I  was  n't  King,"  said  Carnehan.  "  Dravot,  he  was  the 
King,  and  a  handsome  man  he  looked  with  the  gold 
crown  on  his  head  and  all.  Him  and  the  other  party 
stayed  in  that  village,  and  every  morning  Dravot  sat  by 
the  side  of  old  Imbra,  and  the  people  came  and  wor- 
shipped. That  was  Dravot's  order.  Then  a  lot  of  men 
came  into  the  valley,  and  Carnehan  and  Dravot  picks  them 
off  with  the  rifles  before  they  knew  where  they  was,  and 
runs  down  into  the  valley  and  up  again  the  other  side 
and  finds  another  village,  same  as  the  first  one,  and  the 
people  all  falls  down  flat  on  their  faces,  and  Dravot  says 
— '  Now  what  is  the  trouble  between  you  two  villages  ? ' 
and  the  people  points  to  a  woman,  as  fair  as  you  or  me, 
that  was  carried  oiT,  and  Dravot  takes  her  back  to  the 
first  village  and  counts  up  the  dead  —  eight  there  was. 
For  each  dead  man  Dravot  pours  a  little  milk  on  the 
ground  and  waves  his  arms  like  a  whirligig  and  '  That 's 
all  right,'  says  he.  Then  he  and  Carnehan  takes  the 
big  boss  of  each  village  by  the  arm  and  walks  them  down 
into  the  valley,  and  shows  them  how  to  scratch  a  line 
with  a  spear  right  down  the  valley,  and  gives  each  a  sod 
of  turf  from  both  sides  of  the  line.  Then  all  the  people 
comes  down  and  shouts  like  the  devil  and  all,  and  Dravot 
says  — '  Go  and  dig  the  land,  and  be  fruitful  and  multiply,' 
which  they  did,  though  they  did  n't  understand.  Then 
we  asks  the  names  of  things  in  their  lingo  —  bread  and 
water  and  fire  and  idols  and  such,  and  Dravot  leads  the 
priest  of  each  village  up  to  the  idol,  and  says  he  must  sit 


The  Man  Who  Would   Be  King     371 

there  and  judge  the  people,  and  if  anything  goes  wrong 
he  is  to  be  shot. 

"  Next  week  they  was  all  turning  up  the  land  in  the 
valley  as  quiet  as  bees  and  much  prettier,  and  the  priests 
heard  all  the  complaints  and  told  Dravot  in  dumb  show 
what  it  was  about.  '  That 's  just  the  beginning,'  says 
Dravot.  '  They  think  we  're  Gods.'  He  and  Carnehan 
picks  out  twenty  good  men  and  shows  them  how  to  click 
off  a  rifle,  and  form  fours,  and  advance  in  line,  and  they 
was  very  pleased  to  do  so,  and  clever  to  see  the  hang  of 
it.  Then  he  takes  out  his  pipe  and  his  baccy-pouch  and 
leaves  one  at  one  village,  and  one  at  the  other,  and  ofif 
we  two  goes  to  see  what  was  to  be  done  in  the  next  valley. 
That  was  all  rock,  and  there  was  a  little  village  there,  and 
Carnehan  says  —  '  Send  'em  to  the  old  valley  to  plant,'  and 
takes  'em  there  and  gives  'em  some  land  that  was  n't  took 
before.  They  were  a  poor  lot,  and  we  blooded  'em  with 
a  kid  before  letting  'em  into  the  new  Kingdom.  That  was 
to  impress  the  people,  and  then  they  settled  down  quiet, 
and  Carnehan  went  back  to  Dravot  who  had  got  into 
another  valley,  all  snow  and  ice  and  most  mountaineous. 
There  was  no  people  there  and  the  Army  got  afraid,  so 
Dravot  shoots  one  of  them,  and  goes  on  till  he  finds 
some  people  in  a  village,  and  the  Army  explains  that 
unless  the  people  wants  to  be  killed  they  had  better  not 
shoot  their  little  matchlocks;  for  they  had  matchlocks. 
We  makes  friends  with  the  priest  and  I  stays  there  alone 
with  two  of  the  Army,  teaching  the  men  how  to  drill, 
and  a  thundering  big  Chief  comes  across  the  snow  with 
kettle-drums  and  horns  twanging,  because  he  heard  there 
was  a  new  (lod  kicking  about.  Carnel^.an  sights  for  the 
brown  of  the  men  half  a  mile  across  the  snow  and  wings 
one  of  them.  Then  he  sends  a  message  to  the  Chief 
that,  unless  he  wished  to  be  killed,  he  must  come  and 


^7 


Greatest  Short  Stories 


shake  hands  with  me  and  leave  his  arms  behind.  The 
Chief  comes  alune  first,  and  Carnehan  shakes  hands  with 
him  and  whirls  his  arms  about,  same  as  Dravot  used,  and 
very  much  surprised  that  Chief  was,  and  strokes  my  eye- 
brows. Then  Carnehan  goes  alone  to  the  Chief,  and 
asks  him  in  dumb  show  if  he  had  an  enemy  he  hated. 
'  I  have,'  says  the  Chief.  So  Carnehan  weeds  out  the 
pick  of  his  men,  and  sets  the  two  of  the  Army  to  show 
them  drill  and  at  the  end  of  two  weeks  the  men  can 
manoeuvre  about  as  well  as  Volunteers.  So  he  marches 
with  the  Chief  to  a  great  big  plain  on  the  top  of  a  moun- 
tain, and  the  Chiefs  men  rushes  into  a  village  and 
takes  it ;  we  three  Martinis  firing  into  the  brown  of  the 
enemy.  So  we  took  that  village  too,  and  I  gives  the 
Chief  a  rag  from  my  coat  and  says,  *  Occupy  till  I 
come  ;  '  which  was  scriptural.  By  way  of  a  reminder, 
when  me  and  the  Army  was  eighteen  hundred  yards 
away,  I  drops  a  bullet  near  him  standing  on  the  snow, 
and  all  the  people  falls  flat  on  their  faces.  Then  I  sends 
a  letter  to  Dravot  wherever  he  be  by  land  or  by  sea." 

At  the  risk  of  throwing  the  creature  out  of  train  I  in- 
terrupted —  "  How  could  you  write  a  letter  up  yonder?  " 

"The  letter?  —  Oh! — The  letter  !  Keep  looking  at 
me  between  the  eyes,  please.  It  was  a  string-talk  letter, 
that  we  'd  learned  the  way  of  it  from  a  blind  beggar  in 
the  Punjab." 

I  remember  that  there  had  once  come  to  the  office  a 
blind  man  with  a  knotted  twig  and  a  piece  of  string 
which  he  wound  round  the  twig  according  to  some 
cipher  of  his  own.  He  could,  after  the  lapse  of  days  or 
hours,  repeat  the  sentence  which  he  had  reeled  up.  He 
had  reduced  the  alphabet  to  eleven  primitive  sounds  ; 
and  tried  to  teach  me  his  method,  but  I  could  not  un- 
derstand. 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     373 

**  I  sent  that  letter  to  Dravot,"  said  Carnehan ;  *'  and 
told  him  to  come  back  because  this  Kingdom  was  grow- 
ing too  big  for  me  to  handle,  and  then  I  struck  for  the 
first  valley,  to  see  how  the  priests  were  working.  They 
called  the  village  we  took  along  with  the  Chief,  Bashkai, 
and  the  first  village  we  took,  Er-Heb.  The  priests  at 
Er-Heb  was  doing  all  right,  but  they  had  a  lot  of  pend- 
ing cases  about  land  to  show  me,  and  some  men  from 
another  village  had  been  firing  arrows  at  night.  I  went 
out  and  looked  for  that  village,  and  fired  four  rounds  at 
it  from  a  thousand  yards.  That  used  all  the  cartridges 
I  cared  to  spend,  and  I  waited  for  Dravot,  who  had  been 
away  two  or  three  months,  and  I  kept  my  people  quiet. 

"  One  morning  I  heard  the  devil's  own  noise  of  drums 
and  horns,  and  Dan  Dravot  marches  down  the  hill  with 
his  Army  and  a  tail  of  hundreds  of  men,  and,  which  was 
the  most  amazing,  a  great  gold  crown  on  his  head.  *  My 
Gord,  Carnehan,'  says  Daniel,  *  this  is  a  tremenjus 
business,  and  we  've  got  the  whole  country  as  far  as  it 's 
worth  having.  I  am  the  son  of  Alexander  by  Queen 
Semiramis,  and  you  're  my  younger  brother  and  a  God 
too  !  It 's  the  biggest  thing  we  've  ever  seen.  I  've 
been  marching  and  fighting  for  six  weeks  with  the  Army, 
and  every  footy  little  village  for  fifty  miles  has  come  in 
rejoiceful ;  and  more  than  that,  I  've  got  the  key  of  the 
whole  show,  as  you  '11  see,  and  I  've  got  a  crown  for  you  ! 
I  told  'em  to  make  two  of  'em  at  a  place  called  Shu, 
where  the  gold  lies  in  the  rock  like  suet  in  mutton. 
Gold  I  've  seen,  and  turquoise  I  've  kicked  out  of  the 
cUffs,  and  there  's  garnets  in  the  sands  of  the  river,  and 
here  's  a  chunk  of  amber  that  a  man  brought  me.  Call 
up  all  the  priests  and,  here,  take  your  crown.' 

"  One  of  the  men  opens  a  black  hair  bag,  and  I  slips 
the  crown  on.     It  was  too  small  and  too  heavy,  but  I 


374  Greatest  Short  Stones 

wore  it  for  the  glory.  Hammered  gold  it  was  —  five 
pound  weight,  like  a  hoop  of  a  barrel. 

"  '  Peachey,'  says  Dravot,  '  we  don't  want  to  fight  no 
more.  The  Craft  's  the  trick,  so  help  me  ! '  and  he 
brings  forward  that  same  Chief  that  I  left  at  Bashkai 
—  Billy  Fish  we  called  him  afterwards,  because  he  was 
so  like  Billy  Fish  that  drove  the  big  tank-engine  at  Mach 
on  the  Bolan  in  the  old  days.  'Shake  hands  with  him,' 
says  Dravot,  and  I  shook  hands  and  nearly  dropped,  for 
Billy  Fish  gave  me  the  Grip.  I  said  nothing,  but  tried 
him  with  the  Fellow  Craft  Cirip.  He  answers,  all  right, 
and  I  tried  the  Master's  Grip,  but  that  was  a  slip.  '  A 
Fellow  Craft  he  is  ! '  I  says  to  Dan.  '  Does  he  know 
the  word?'  —  'He  does,'  says  Dan,  'and  all  the 
priests  know.  It  's  a  miracle  !  The  Chiefs  and  the 
priests  can  work  a  Fellow  Craft  Lodge  in  a  way  that 's 
very  like  ours,  and  they  've  cut  the  marks  on  the  rocks, 
but  they  don't  know  the  Third  Degree,  and  they  've  come 
to  find  out.  It 's  Gord's  Truth.  I  've  known  these  long 
years  that  the  Afghans  knew  up  to  the  Fellow  Craft  De- 
gree, but  this  is  a  miracle.  A  God  and  a  Grand-Master 
oj  the  Craft  am  I,  and  a  Lodge  in  the  Third  Degree  I 
will  open,  and  we  '11  raise  the  head  priests  and  the  Chiefs 
of  the  villages.' 

"  '  It 's  against  all  the  law,'  I  says,  *  holding  a  Lodge 
without  warrant  from  any  one ;  and  you  know  we  never 
held  office  in  any  Lodge.' 

"  '  It 's  a  master-stroke  o'  policy,'  says  Dravot.  '  It 
means  running  the  country  as  easy  as  a  four-wheeled 
bogie  on  a  down  grade.  We  can't  stop  to  inquire  now, 
or  they  '11  turn  against  us.  I  've  forty  Chiefs  at  my  heel, 
and  passed  and  raised  according  to  their  merit  they 
shall  be.  Billet  these  men  on  the  villages,  and  see 
that  we  run  up  a  Lodge  of   some  kind.     The  temple 


The  Man  Who  Would   Be   King     375 

of  Imbra  will  do  for  the  Lodge-room.  The  women  must 
make  aprons  as  you  show  them.  I  '11  hold  a  levee  of 
Chiefs  to-night  and  Lodge  to-morrow.' 

"  I  was  fair  run  off  my  legs,  but  I  was  n't  such  a  fool 
as  not  to  see  what  a  pull  this  Craft  business  gave  us. 
I  showed  the  priests'  families  how  to  make  aprons  of 
the  degrees,  but  for  Dravot's  apron  the  blue  border 
and  marks  was  made  of  turquoise  lumps  on  white 
hide,  not  cloth.  We  took  a  great  square  stone  in  the 
temple  for  the  Master's  chair,  and  little  stones  for  the 
officers'  chairs,  and  painted  the  black  pavement  with 
white  squares,  and  did  what  we  could  to  make  things 
regular. 

"  At  the  levee  which  was  held  that  night  on  the  hillside 
with  big  bonfires,  Dravot  gives  out  that  him  and  me  were 
Gods  and  sons  of  Alexander,  and  Past  Grand-masters  in 
the  Craft,  and  was  come  to  make  Kafiristan  a  country 
where  every  man  should  eat  in  peace  and  drink  in  quiet, 
and  specially  obey  us.  Then  the  Chiefs  come  round  to 
shake  hands,  and  they  were  so  hairy  and  white  and  fair 
it  was  just  shaking  hands  with  old  friends.  We  gave  them 
names  according  as  they  was  like  men  we  had  known  in 
India  —  Billy  Fish,  Holly  Dilworth,  Pikky  Kergan,  that 
was  Bazar-master  when  I  was  at  Mhow,  and  so  on,  and 
so  on. 

"  The  most  amazing  miracles  was  at  Lodge  next  night. 
One  of  the  old  priests  was  watching  us  continuous,  and 
I  felt  uneasy,  for  I  knew  we  'd  have  to  fudge  the  Ritual, 
and  I  did  n't  know  what  the  men  knew.  The  old  priest 
was  a  stranger  come  in  from  beyond  the  village  of  Bash- 
kai.  The  minute  Dravot  puts  on  the  Master's  apron  that 
the  girls  had  made  for  him,  the  priest  fetches  a  whoop 
and  a  howl,  and  tries  to  overturn  the  stone  that  Dravot 
was  sitting  on.     *  It 's  all  up  now,'  I  says.     '  That  comes 


TyjG  Greatest  Short  Stones 

of  meddling  with  the  Craft  without  warrant !  *  Dravot 
never  winked  an  eye,  not  when  ten  priests  took  and 
tilted  over  the  Grand-master's  chair  —  which  was  to  say 
the  stone  of  Imbra.  The  priest  begins  rubbing  the  bot- 
tom end  of  it  to  clear  away  the  black  dirt,  and  presently 
he  shows  all  the  other  priests  the  Master's  Mark,  same  as 
was  on  Dravot's  apron,  cut  into  the  stone.  Not  even  the 
priests  of  the  temple  of  Imbra  knew  it  was  there.  The 
old  chap  falls  flat  on  his  face  at  Dravot's  feet  and  kisses 
'em.  *  Luck  again,'  says  Dravot,  across  the  Lodge  to 
me,  *  they  say  it 's  the  missing  Mark  that  no  one  could 
understand  the  why  of.  We  're  more  than  safe  now.' 
Then  he  bangs  the  butt  of  his  gun  for  a  gavel  and  says ; 
'By  virtue  of  the  authority  vested  in  me  by  my  own 
right  hand  and  the  help  of  Peachey,  I  declare  myself 
Grand-Master  of  all  Freemasonry  in  Kafiristan  in  this  the 
Mother  Lodge  o'  the  country,  and  King  of  Kafiristan 
equally  with  Peachey  ! '  At  that  he  puts  on  his  crown 
and  I  puts  on  mine  —  I  was  doing  Senior  Warden  —  and 
we  opens  the  Lodge  in  most  ample  form.  It  was  a 
amazing  miracle  !  The  priests  moved  in  Lodge  through 
the  first  two  degrees  almost  without  teUing,  as  if  the 
memory  was  coming  back  to  them.  After  that,  Peachey 
and  Dravot  raised  such  as  was  worthy  —  high  priests  and 
Chiefs  of  far-off  villages.  Billy  Fish  was  the  first,  and  I 
can  tell  you  we  scared  the  soul  out  of  him.  It  was  not 
in  any  way  according  to  Ritual,  but  it  served  our  turn. 
We  did  n't  raise  more  than  ten  of  the  biggest  men,  be- 
cause we  did  n't  want  to  make  the  Degree  commoiL 
And  they  was  clamoring  to  be  raised. 

" '  In  another  six  months,'  says  Dravot,  '  we  '11  hold 
another  Communication,  and  see  how  you  are  working.' 
Then  he  asks  them  about  their  villages,  and  learns  that 
they  was  fighting  one  against  the  other,  and  were  sick 


The  Man  Who  Would   Be   King     377 

and  tired  of  it.  And  when  they  was  n't  doing  that  they 
was  fighting  with  the  Mohammedans.  '  You  can  fight 
those  when  they  come  into  our  country,'  says  Dravot, 
'  Tell  off  every  tenth  man  of  your  tribes  for  a  Frontier 
guard,  and  send  two  hundred  at  a  time  to  this  valley  to 
be  drilled.  Nobody  is  going  to  be  shot  or  speared  any 
more  so  long  as  he  does  well,  and  I  know  that  you  won't 
cheat  me,  because  you  're  white  people  —  sons  of  Alex- 
ander—  and  not  like  common,  black  Mohammedans. 
You  are  my  people,  and  by  God,'  says  he,  running  off 
into  English  at  the  end  —  '  I  '11  make  a  damned  fine 
Nation  of  you,  or  I  '11  die  in  the  making ! ' 

"  I  can't  tell  all  we  did  for  the  next  six  months,  because 
Dravot  did  a  lot  I  could  n't  see  the  hang  of,  and  he 
learned  their  lingo  in  a  way  I  never  could.  My  work 
was  to  help  the  people  plough,  and  now  and  again  go 
out  with  some  of  the  Army  and  see  what  the  other  vil- 
lages were  doing,  and  make  'em  throw  rope-bridges 
across  the  ravines  which  cut  up  the  country  horrid. 
Dravot  was  very  kind  to  me,  but  when  he  walked  up  and 
down  in  the  pine  wood  pulling  that  bloody  red  beard  of 
his  with  both  fists  I  knew  he  was  thinking  plans  I  could 
not  advise  about,  and  I  just  waited  for  orders. 

"  But  Dravot  never  showed  me  disrespect  before  the 
people.  They  were  afraid  of  me  and  the  Army,  but  they 
loved  Dan.  He  was  the  best  of  friends  with  the  priests 
and  the  Chiefs  ;  but  any  one  could  come  across  the  hills 
with  a  complaint,  and  Dravot  would  hear  him  out  fair, 
and  call  four  priests  together  and  say  what  was  to  be 
done.  He  used  to  call  in  Billy  Fish  from  Bashkai,  and 
Pikky  Kergan  from  Shu,  and  an  old  Chief  we  call  Kafu- 
zelum  —  it  was  like  enough  to  his  real  name  —  and  hold 
councils  with  'em  when  there  was  any  fighting  to  be  done 
in  small  villages.     That  was  his  Council  of  \Var,  and  the 


378  Greatest  Short  Stones 

four  priests  of  Baslikni,  Shu,  Khawak,  and  Madora  was 
his  Privy  Council.  Between  the  lot  of  'em  they  sent  me, 
with  forty  men  and  twenty  rifles,  and  sixty  men  carry- 
ing turquoises,  into  the  Ghorband  country  to  buy  those 
hand-made  Martini  rifles,  that  come  out  of  the  Amir's 
workshops  at  Kabul,  from  one  of  the  Amir's  Herati 
regiments  that  would  have  sold  the  very  teeth  out  of 
their  mouths  for  turquoises. 

"  I  stayed  in  Ghorband  a  month,  and  gave  the  Gov- 
ernor there  the  pick  of  my  baskets  for  hush-money,  and 
bribed  the  Colonel  of  the  regiment  some  more,  and,  be- 
tween the  two  and  the  tribes-people,  we  got  more  than 
a  hundred  hand-made  Martinis,  a  hundred  good  Kohat 
Jezaila  that  '11  throw  to  six  hundred  yards,  and  forty  man- 
loads  of  very  bad  ammunition  for  the  rifles.  I  came 
back  with  what  I  had,  and  distributed  'em  among  the 
men  that  the  Chiefs  sent  in  to  me  to  drill.  Dravot 
was  too  busy  to  attend  to  those  things,  but  the  old 
Army  that  we  first  made  helped  me,  and  we  turned 
out  five  hundred  men  that  could  drill,  and  two  hundred 
that  knew  how  to  hold  arms  pretty  straight.  Even  those 
cork-screwed,  hand-made  guns  was  a  miracle  to  them 
Dravot  talked  big  about  powder-shops  and  factories 
walking  up  and  down  in  the  pine  wood  when  the  winter 
was  coming  on. 

"  '  I  won't  make  a  Nation,'  says  he.  '  I  '11  make  an 
Empire  !  These  men  are  n't  niggers  ;  they  're  English  ! 
Look  at  their  eyes  —  look  at  their  mouths.  Look  at  the 
way  they  stand  up.  They  sit  on  chairs  in  their  own 
houses.  They  're  the  Lost  Tribes,  or  something  like  it, 
and  they  've  grown  to  be  English.  I  '11  take  a  census  in 
the  spring  if  the  priests  don't  get  frightened.  There 
must  be  a  fair  two  million  of  'em  in  these  hills.  The 
villages  are  full  o'  little  children.     Two  million  people 


The  Man  Who  Would   Be   King     379 

—  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousami  fighting  men — and 
all  English  !  They  only  want  the  rifles  and  a  little  drill- 
ing. Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men,  ready  to  cut 
in  on  Russia's  right  flank  when  she  tries  for  India ! 
Peachey,  man,'  he  says,  chewing  his  beard  in  great 
hunks,  '  we  shall  be  Emperors  —  Emperors  of  the 
Earth !  Rajah  Brooke  will  be  a  suckling  to  us.  I  '11 
treat  with  the  Viceroy  on  equal  terms.  I  'U  ask  him  to 
send  me  twelve  picked  English  —  twelve  that  I  know  of 

—  to  help  us  govern  a  bit.  There  's  Mackray,  Sergeant- 
pensioner  at  Segowli  —  many 's  the  good  dinner  he  's  given 
me,  and  his  wife  a  pair  of  trousers.  There  's  Donkin,  the 
Warder  of  Tounghoo  Jail ;  there  's  hundreds  that  I  could 
lay  my  hand  on  if  I  was  in  India.  The  Viceroy  shall  do- 
it for  me,  I  '11  send  a  man  through  in  the  spring  for  those 
men,  and  I  '11  write  for  a  dispensation  from  the  Grand 
Lodge  for  what  I  've  done  as  Grand-Master.  That  — 
and  all  the  Sniders  that  '11  be  thrown  out  when  the  na- 
tive troops  in  India  take  up  the  Martini.  They  '11  be 
worn  smooth,  but  they  '11  do  for  fighting  in  these  hills. 
Twelve  English,  a  hundred  thousand  Sniders  run  through 
the  Amir's  country  in  dribblets  —  I  'd  be  content  with 
twenty  thousand  in  one  year  —  and  we'd  be  an  Empire. 
When  everything  was  shipshape,  I  'd  hand  over  the  crown 

—  this  crown  I  'm  wearing  now  —  to  Queen  Victoria  on 
rny  knees,  and  she  'd  say  :  "  Rise  up,  Sir  Daniel  Dravot." 
Oh,  it 's  big !  It 's  big,  I  tell  you  !  But  there 's  so  much 
to  be  done  in  every  place  —  Bashkai,  Khawak,  Shu,  and 
everywhere  else.' 

'"What  is  it?'  I  says.  'There  are  no  more  men 
coming  in  to  be  drilled  this  autumn.  Look  at  those 
fat  black  clouds.     They  're  bringing  the  snow.' 

" '  It  is  n't  that,'  says  Daniel,  putting  his  hand  very 
hard  on  my  shoulder ;  '  and  I  don't  wish  to  say  any- 


380  Greatest  Short  Stories 

thing  that 's  against  you,  for  no  other  living  man  would 
have  followed  me  and  made  me  what  I  am  as  you  have 
done.  You  're  a  first-class  Commander-in-Chief,  and 
the  people  know  you ;  but  —  it 's  a  big  country,  and 
somehow  you  can't  help  me,  Peachey,  in  the  way  I 
want  to  be  helped.' 

"  '  Go  to  your  blasted  priests,  then  ! '  I  said,  and  I 
was  sorry  when  I  made  that  remark,  but  it  did  hurt  me 
sore  to  find  Daniel  talking  so  superior  when  I  'd  drilled 
all  the  men,  and  done  all  he  told  me. 

"  '  Don't  let 's  quarrel,  Peachey,'  says  Daniel  without 
cursing.  *  You  're  a  King  too,  and  the  half  of  this 
Kingdom  is  yours ;  but  can't  you  see,  Peachey,  we  want 
cleverer  men  than  us  now  —  three  or  four  of  'em,  that 
we  can  scatter  about  for  our  Deputies.  It 's  a  hugeous 
great  State,  and  I  can't  always  tell  the  right  thing  to  do, 
and  I  have  n't  time  for  all  I  want  to  do,  and  here  's  the 
winter  coming  on  and  all.'  He  put  half  his  beard  into 
his  mouth,  all  red  like  the  gold  of  his  crown. 

"  '  I  'm  sorry,  Daniel,'  says  I.  *  I  've  done  all  I 
could.  I  've  drilled  the  men  and  shown  the  people  how 
to  stack  their  oats  better  ;  and  I  've  brought  in  those  tin- 
ware rifles  from  Ghorband  —  but  I  know  what  you  're 
driving  at.  I  take  it  Kings  always  feel  oppressed  that 
way.' 

" '  There  's  another  thing  too,'  says  Dravot,  walking 
up  and  down.  *  The  winter  's  coming  and  these  people 
won't  be  giving  much  trouble,  and  if  they  do  we  can't 
move  about.      I  want  a  wife.' 

"  *  For  Gord's  sake  leave  the  women  alone  ! '  I  says. 
*  We  've  both  got  all  the  work  we  can,  though  I  am  a 
fool.  Remember  the  Contrack,  and  keep  clear  o' 
women.' 

"  *  The  Contrack  only  lasted  till  such  time  as  we  was 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     381 

Kings ;  and  Kings  we  have  been  these  months  past,' 
says  Dravot,  weighing  his  crown  in  his  hand.  *  You  go 
get  a  wife  too,  Peachey  —  a  nice,  strappin',  plump  girl 
that  '11  keep  you  warm  in  the  winter.  They  're  prettier 
than  English  girls,  and  we  can  take  the  pick  of  'em. 
Boil  'em  once  or  twice  in  hot  water,  and  they  '11  come 
out  like  chicken  and  ham.' 

"  '  Don't  tempt  me  ! '  I  says.  '  I  will  not  have  any 
dealings  with  a  woman  not  till  we  are  a  dam'  side  more 
settled  than  we  are  now.  I  've  been  doing  the  work  o' 
two  men,  and  you  've  been  doing  the  work  o'  three. 
Let 's  lie  off  a  bit,  and  see  if  we  can  get  some  better 
tobacco  from  Afghan  country  and  run  in  some  good 
liquor  ;  but  no  women.' 

"  '  Who  's  talking  o'  women  ?  '  says  Dravot.  *  I  said 
wife  —  a  Queen  to  breed  a  King's  son  for  the  King.  A 
Queen  out  of  the  strongest  tribe,  that  '11  make  them 
yoijr  blood-brothers,  and  that  '11  lie  by  your  side  and 
tell  you  all  the  people  thinks  about  you  and  their  own 
affairs.     That 's  what  I  want.' 

"  *  Do  you  remember  that  Bengali  woman  I  kept  at 
Mogul  Serai  when  I  was  a  plate-layer?'  says  I.  *A 
fat  lot  o'  good  she  was  to  me.  She  taught  me  the  lingo 
and  one  or  two  other  things  ;  but  what  happened  ?  She 
ran  away  with  the  Station  Master's  servant  and  half  my 
month's  pay.  Then  she  turned  up  at  Dadur  Junction 
in  tow  of  a  half-caste,  and  had  the  impidence  to  say  I 
was  her  husband  —  all  among  the  drivers  in  the  run- 
ning-shed too ! ' 

" '  We  've  done  with  that,'  says  Dravot,  '  these 
women  are  whiter  than  you  or  me,  and  a  Queen  I  will 
have  for  the  winter  months.' 

"  '  For  the  last  time  o'  asking,  Dan,  do  not,^  I  says. 
*  It  '11  only  bring  us  harm.     The  Bible  says  that  Kings 


382  Greatest  Short  Stones 

ain't  to  waste  their  strength  on  women,  'specially  when 
they  've  got  a  new  raw  Kingdom  to  work  over.' 

"  *  For  the  last  time  of  answering  I  will/  said  Dravot, 
and  he  went  away  through  the  pine-trees  looking  like 
a  big  red  devil,  the  sun  being  on  his  crown  and  beard 
and  all. 

"  But  getting  a  wife  was  not  as  easy  as  Dan  thought. 
He  put  it  before  the  Council,  and  there  was  no  answer  till 
Billy  Fish  said  that  he  'd  better  ask  the  girls.  Dravot 
damned  them  all  round.  'What's  wrong  with  me?' 
he  shouts,  standing  by  the  idol  Imbra.  '  Am  I  a  dog 
or  am  I  not  enough  of  a  man  for  your  wenches? 
Have  n't  I  put  the  shadow  of  my  hand  over  this  country? 
Who  stopped  the  last  Afghan  raid  ? '  It  was  me  really, 
but  Dravot  was  too  angry  to  remember.  '  Who  bought 
your  guns?  Who  repaired  the  bridges?  Who's  the 
Grand-Master  of  the  sign  cut  in  the  stone?'  says  he, 
and  he  thumped  his  hand  on  the  block  that  he  used  to 
sit  on  in  Lodge,  and  at  Council,  which  opened  like 
Lodge  always.  Billy  Fish  said  nothing  and  no  more  did 
the  others.  *  Keep  your  hair  on,  Dan,'  said  I ;  *  and 
ask  the  girls.  That 's  how  it 's  done  at  Home,  and  these 
people  are  quite  English.' 

"  '  The  marriage  of  the  King  is  a  matter  of  State,' 
says  Dan,  in  a  white-hot  rage,  for  he  could  feel,  I  hope, 
that  he  was  going  against  his  better  mind.  He  walked 
out  of  the  Council-room,  and  the  others  sat  still,  look- 
ing at  the  ground. 

"  '  Billy  Fish,'  says  I  to  the  Chief  of  Bashkai,  *  what 's 
the  difficulty  here  ?     A  straight  answer  to  a  true  friend.' 

"'You  know,"  says  Billy  Fish.  'How  should  a  man 
tell  you  who  knows  everything?  How  can  daughters 
of  men  marry  Gods  or  Devils?     It 's  not  proper.' 

"  I  remembered  something  like  that  in  the  Bible ;  but 


The   Man  Who  Would   Be   King     383 

if,  after  seeing  us  as  long  as  they  had,  they  still  believed 
we  were  Gods,  it  was  n't  for  me  to  undeceive  them. 

" '  A  God  can  do  anything,'  says  I.  '  If  the  King  is 
fond  of  a  girl  he  '11  not  let  her  die.'  —  '  She  '11  have  to,' 
said  Billy  Fish.  '  There  are  all  sorts  of  Gods  and  Devils 
in  these  mountains,  and  now  and  again  a  girl  marries 
one  of  them  and  is  n't  seen  any  more.  Besides,  you  two 
know  the  Mark  cut  in  the  stone.  Only  the  Gods  know 
that.  VVe  thought  you  were  men  till  you  showed  the 
sign  of  the  Master.' 

"  I  wished  then  that  we  had  explained  about  the  loss  of 
the  genuine  secrets  of  a  Master-Mason  at  the  first  go-off; 
but  I  said  nothing.  All  that  night  there  was  a  blowing 
of  horns  in  a  little  dark  temple  half-way  down  the  hill, 
and  I  heard  a  girl  crying  fit  to  die.  One  of  the  priests 
told  us  that  she  was  being  prepared  to  marry  the  King. 

"  '  I  '11  have  no  nonsense  of  that  kind,'  says  Dan. 
'  J  don't  want  to  interfere  with  your  customs,  but  I  '11 
take  my  own  wife.'  — '  The  girl 's  a  little  bit  afraid,' 
says  the  priest.  '  She  thinks  she  's  going  to  die,  and 
they  are  a-heartening  of  her  up  down  in  the  temple.' 

"  '  Hearten  her  very  tender,  then,'  says  Dravot,  *  or 
I  '11  hearten  you  with  the  butt  of  a  gun  so  you  '11  never 
want  to  be  heartened  again.'  He  licked  his  lips,  did 
Dan,  and  stayed  up  walking  about  more  than  half  the 
night,  thinking  of  the  wife  that  he  was  going  to  get  in 
the  morning.  I  was  n't  by  any  means  comfortable,  for  I 
knew  that  dealings  with  a  woman  in  foreign  parts,  though 
you  was  a  crowned  King  twenty  times  over,  could  not 
but  be  risky.  I  got  up  very  early  in  the  morning  while 
Dravot  was  asleep,  and  I  saw  the  priests  talking  together 
in  whispers,  and  the  Chiefs  talking  together  too,  and  they 
looked  at  me  out  of  the  corners  of  their  eyes. 

" '  What    is   up,  Fish  ? '   I   say  to  the   Bashkai  man, 


384  Greatest  Short  Stories 

who  was  wrapped  up  in  his  furs  and  looking  splendid  to 
behold. 

"  '  I  can't  rightly  say,'  says  he  ;  '  but  if  you  can  make 
the  King  drop  all  this  nonsense  about  marriage,  you  '11 
be  doing  him  and  me  and  yourself  a  great  service.' 

"  '  That  I  do  believe,'  says  I.  *  But  sure,  you  know, 
Billy,  as  well  as  me,  having  fougfit  against  and  for  us, 
that  the  King  and  me  are  nothing  more  than  two  of 
the  finest  men  that  God  Almighty  ever  made.  Nothing 
more,  I  do  assure  you.' 

" '  That  may  be,'  says  Billy  Fish,  '  and  yet  I  should 
be  sorry  if  it  was,'  He  sinks  his  head  upon  his  great 
fur  cloak  for  a  minute  and  thinks.  •'  King,'  says  he, 
'  be  you  man  or  God  or  Devil,  I  '11  stick  by  you  to-day. 
I  have  twenty  of  my  men  with  me,  and  they  will  follow 
me.     We  '11  go  to  Bashkai  until  the  storm  blows  over.' 

"  A  little  snow  had  fallen  in  the  night,  and  everything 
was  white  except  the  greasy  fat  clouds  that  blew  down 
and  down  from  the  north.  Dravot  came  out  with  his 
crown  on  his  head,  swinging  his  arms  and  stamping  his 
feet,  and  looking  more  pleased  than  Punch. 

" '  For  the  last  time,  drop  it,  Dan,'  says  I  in  a  whis- 
per, '  Billy  Fish  here  says  that  there  will  be  a  row.' 

"  '  A  row  among  my  people  !  '  says  Dravot.  '  Not 
much.  Peachey,  you  're  a  fool  not  to  get  a  wife  too. 
Where  's  the  girl  ? '  says  he  with  a  voice  as  loud  as  the 
braying  of  a  jackass.  '  Call  up  all  the  Chiefs  and 
priests,  and  let  the  Emperor  see  if  his  wife  suits  him.' 

"  There  was  no  need  to  call  any  one.  They  were  all 
there  leaning  on  their  guns  and  spears  round  the  clear- 
ing in  the  centre  of  the  pine  wood.  A  lot  of  priests 
went  down  to  the  little  temple  to  bring  up  the  girl,  and 
the  horns  blew  fit  to  wake  the  dead.  Billy  Fish  saunters 
round  and  gets  as  close  to  Daniel  as  he  could,  and  be- 


The  Man  Who  Would   Be  King     385 

hind  him  stood  his  twenty  men  with  matchlocks.  Not 
a  man  of  them  under  six  feet.  I  was  next  to  Dravot, 
and  behind  me  was  twenty  men  of  the  regular  Army, 
Up  comes  the  girl,  and  a  strapping  wench  she  was,  cov- 
ered with  silver  and  turquoises  but  white  as  death,  and 
looking  "tack  every  minute  at  the  priests. 

"  *  She  '11  do,'  said  Dan,  looking  her  over.  *  What 's 
to  be  afraid  of,  lass?  Come  and  kiss  me.'  He  puts 
his  arm  round  her.  She  shuts  her  eyes,  gives  a  bit  of 
a  squeak,  and  down  goes  her  face  in  the  side  of  Dan's 
flaming  red  beard. 

"  '  The  slut 's  bitten  me  !  '  says  he,  clapping  his  hand 
to  his  neck,  and,  sure  enough,  his  hand  was  red  with 
blood.  Billy  Fish  and  two  of  his  matchlock-men  catches 
hold  of  Dan  by  the  shoulders  and  drags  him  into  the 
Bashkai  lot,  while  the  priests  howls  in  their  lingo,  — 
*  Neither  God  nor  Devil  but  a  man  ! '  I  was  all  taken 
aback,  for  a  priest  cut  at  me  in  front,  and  the  Army 
behind  began  firing  into  the  Bashkai  men. 

"  '  God  A'mighty  ! '  says  Dan.  *  What  is  the  mean- 
ing o'  this?  ' 

"  '  Come  back  !  Come  away  !  '  says  Billy  Fish. 
'  Ruin  and  Mutiny  is  the  matter.  We'll  break  for 
Bashkai  if  we  can.' 

"  I  tried  to  give  some  sort  of  orders  to  my  men  —  the 
men  o'  the  regular  Army  —  but  it  was  no  use,  so  I  fired 
into  the  brown  of  'em  with  an  English  Martini  and  drilled 
three  beggars  in  a  line.  The  valley  was  full  of  shouting, 
howling  creatures,  and  every  soul  was  shrieking,  '  Not 
a  God  nor  a  Devil  but  only  a  man  ! '  The  Bashkai 
troops  stuck  to  Billy  Fish  all  they  were  worth,  but  their 
matchlocks  was  n't  half  as  good  as  the  Kabul  breech- 
loaders, and  four  of  them  dropped.  Dan  was  bellow- 
ing like    a    bull,  for   he   was  very   wrathy ;    and    Billy 

25 


386  Greatest  Short  Stories 

Fish  had  a  hard  job  to  prevent  him  running  out  at 
the  crowd. 

"  *  We  can't  stand,'  says  Billy  Fish.  '  Make  a  run 
for  it  down  the  valley  !  The  whole  place  is  against  us.' 
The  matchlock- men  ran,  and  we  went  down  the  valley 
in  spite  of  Dravot.  He  was  swearing  horrible  and  cry- 
ing out  he  was  a  King.  The  priests  rolled  great  stones 
on  us,  and  the  regular  Army  fired  hard,  and  there  wasn't 
more  than  six  men,  not  counting  Dan,  Billy  Fish,  and 
Me,  that  came  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley  alive. 

"  Then  they  stopped  firing  and  the  horns  in  the 
temple  blew  again.  'Come  away — for  Gord's  sake 
come  away  !  '  says  Billy  Fish.  '  They  '11  send  runners 
out  to  all  the  villages  before  ever  we  get  to  Bashkai.  I 
can  protect  you  there,  but  I  can't  do  anything  now.' 

"  My  own  notion  is  that  Dan  began  to  go  mad  in  his 
head  from  that  hour.  He  stared  up  and  down  like  a 
stuck  pig.  Then  he  was  all  for  walking  back  alone  and 
killing  the  priests  with  his  bare  hands ;  which  he  could 
have  done.  'An  Emperor  am  I,'  says  Daniel,  'and 
next  year  I  shall  be  a  Knight  of  the  Queen.' 

"  '  All  right,  Dan,'  says  I ;  '  but  come  along  now 
while  there  's  time.' 

'•  '  It 's  your  fault,'  says  he,  '  for  not  looking  after 
your  Army  better.  There  was  mutiny  in  the  midst,  and 
you  did  n't  know  —  you  damned  engine-driving,  plate- 
laying,  missionary's-pass-hunting  hound  ! '  He  sat  upon 
a  rock  and  called  me  every  foul  name  he  could  lay  tongue 
to.  I  was  too  heart-sick  to  care,  though  it  was  all  his 
foolishness  that  brought  the  smash. 

"'I'm  sorry,  Dan,'  says  I,  '  but  there  's  no  accounting 
for  natives.  This  business  is  our  Fifty- Seven.  Maybe 
we  '11  make  something  out  of  it  yet,  when  we  've  got  to 
Bashkai.' 


The   Man  Who  Would   Be   King     387 

"  '  Let  's  get  to  Bashkai,  then,'  says  Dan,  '  and,  by 
God,  when  I  come  back  here  again  I  '11  sweep  the  valley 
so  there  isn't  a  bug  in  a  blanket  left  !  ' 

"We  walked  all  that  day,  and  all  that  night  Dan  was 
stumping  up  and  down  on  the  snow,  chewing  his  beard 
and  muttering  to  himself. 

" '  There  's  no  hope  o'  getting  clear,'  said  Billy  Fish. 
'  The  priests  will  have  sent  runners  to  the  villages  to 
say  that  you  are  only  men.  Why  did  n't  you  stick  on  as 
Gods  till  things  was  more  settled?  I  'm  a  dead  man,' 
says  Billy  Fish,  and  he  throws  himself  down  on  the  snow 
and  begins  to  pray  to  his  Gods. 

"  Next  morning  we  was  in  a  cruel  bad  country  —  all 
up  and  down,  no  level  ground  at  all,  and  no  food  either. 
The  six  Bashkai  men  looked  at  Billy  Fish  hungryway 
as  if  they  wanted  to  ask  something,  but  they  said  never 
a  word.  At  noon  we  came  to  the  top  of  a  flat  mountain 
all  covered  with  snow,  and  when  we  climbed  up  into  it, 
behold,  there  was  an  Army  in  position  waiting  in  the 
middle  ! 

"  'The  runners  have  been  very  quick,'  says  Billy  Fish, 
with  a  little  bit  of  a  laugh.     '  They  are  waiting  for  us.' 

"  Three  or  four  men  began  to  fire  from  the  enemy's 
side,  and  a  chance  shot  took  Daniel  in  the  calf  of  the  leg. 
That  brought  him  to  his  senses.  He  looks  across  the 
snow  at  the  Army,  and  sees  the  rifles  that  we  had  brought 
into  the  country. 

"  'We  're  done  for,'  says  he.  'They  are  Englishmen, 
these  people,  —  and  it 's  my  blasted  nonsense  that  has 
brought  you  to  this.  Get  back,  Billy  Fish,  and  take  your 
men  away ;  you  've  done  what  you  could,  and  now  cut 
for  it.  Carnehan,'  says  he,  '  shake  hands  with  me  and  go 
along  with  Billy.  Maybe  they  won't  kill  you.  I  '11  go  and 
meet  'em  alone.     It 's  me  that  did  it.      Me,  the  King  !  ' 


3SS  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  '  Go  ! '  says  I.  '  Go  to  Hell,  Dan.  I  am  with  you 
here.  Billy  Fish,  you  clear  out,  and  we  two  will  meet 
those  folk.' 

"  '  I  'm  a  Chief,'  says  Billy  Fish,  quite  quiet.  '  I  stay 
with  you.     My  men  can  go.' 

"  The  Bashkai  fellows  did  n't  wait  for  a  second  word 
but  ran  off,  and  Dan  and  Me  and  Billy  Fish  walked 
across  to  where  the  drums  were  drumming  and  the 
horns  were  horning.  It  was  cold  —  awful  cold.  I  've 
got  that  cold  in  the  back  of  my  head  now.  There  's  a 
lump  of  it  there." 

The  punkah-coolies  had  gone  to  sleep.  Two  kero- 
sene lamps  were  blazing  in  the  office,  and  the  perspira- 
tion poured  down  my  face  and  splashed  on  the  blotter  as 
I  leaned  forward.  Carnehan  was  shivering,  and  I  feared 
that  his  mind  might  go.  I  wiped  my  face,  took  a  fresh 
grip  of  the  piteously  mangled  hands,  and  said  :  "  What 
happened  after  that  ?  " 

The  momentary  shift  of  my  eyes  had  broken  the  clear 
current. 

"What  was  you  pleased  to  say?  "  whined  Carnehan. 
"  They  took  them  without  any  sound.  Not  a  little  whis- 
per all  along  the  snow,  not  though  the  King  knocked 
down  the  first  man  that  set  hand  on  him  —  not  though  old 
Peachey  fired  his  last  cartridge  into  the  brown  of  'em. 
Not  a  single  solitary  sound  did  those  swines  make.  They 
just  closed  up  tight,  and  I  tell  you  their  furs  stunk. 
There  was  a  man  called  Billy  Fish,  a  good  friend  of  us 
all,  and  they  cut  his  throat.  Sir,  then  and  there,  like 
a  pig ;  and  the  King  kicks  up  the  bloody  snow  and 
says :  *  We  've  had  a  dashed  fine  run  for  our  money. 
What 's  coming  next?  '  But  Peachey,  Peachey  Taliaferro, 
I  tell  you,  Sir,  in  confidence  as  betwixt  two  friends,  he 
lost  his  head,  Sir.     No,  he  did  n't   neither.     The  King 


The  Man  Who  Would  Be  King     389 

lost  his  head,  so  he  did,  all  along  o'  one  of  those  cun- 
ning rope-bridges.  Kindly  let  me  have  the  paper-cutter. 
Sir.  It  tilted  this  way.  They  marched  him  a  mile  across 
that  snow  to  a  rope- bridge  over  a  ravine  with  a  river  at 
the  bottom.  You  may  have  seen  such.  They  prodded 
him  behind  like  an  ox.  '  Damn  your  eyes  ! '  says  the 
King.  '  D' you  suppose  I  can't  die  like  a  gentleman?' 
He  turns  to  Peachey  —  Peachey  that  was  crying  like  a 
child.  '  I  've  brought  you  to  this,  Peachey,'  says  he. 
'  Brought  you  out  of  your  happy  life  to  be  killed  in 
Kafiristan,  where  you  was  late  Commander-in-Chief  of 
the  Emperor's  forces.  Say  you  forgive  me,  Peachey.'  — 
'  I  do,'  says  Peachey.  *  Fully  and  freely  do  I  forgive  you, 
Dan.'  —  'Shake  hands,  Peachey,'  says  he.  'I'm  going 
now.'  Out  he  goes,  looking  neither  right  nor  left,  and 
when  he  was  plumb  in  the  middle  of  those  dizzy  dancing 
ropes,  — '  Cut,  you  beggars,'  he  shouts  ;  and  they  cut, 
and  old  Dan  fell,  turning  round  and  round  and  round, 
twenty  thousand  miles,  for  he  took  half  an  hour  to  fall 
till  he  struck  the  water,  and  I  could  see  his  body  caught 
on  a  rock  with  the  gold  crown  close  beside. 

"  But  do  you  know  what  they  did  to  Peachey  between 
two  pine-trees?  They  crucified  him.  Sir,  as  Peachey's 
hand  will  show.  They  used  wooden  pegs  for  his  hands 
and  his  feet ;  and  he  did  n't  die.  He  hung  there  and 
screamed,  and  they  took  him  down  next  day,  and  said  it 
was  a  miracle  that  he  wasn't  dead.  They  took  him 
down  —  poor  old  Peachey  that  had  n't  done  them  any 
harm  —  that  had  n't  done  them  any " 

He  rocked  to  and  fro  and  wept  bitterly,  wiping  his 
eyes  with  the  back  of  his  scarred  hands  and  moaning  like 
a  child  for  some  ten  minutes. 

'•'  They  was  cruel  enough  to  feed  him  up  in  the  temple, 
because  they  said  he  was  more  of  a  God  than  old  Daniel 


390  Greatest  Short  Stories 

that  was  a  man.  'Vhcn  they  turned  him  out  on  the  snow, 
and  told  him  to  go  home,  and  Peachey  came  home  in 
about  a  year,  begging  along  the  roads  quite  safe  ;  for 
Daniel  Dravot  he  walked  before  and  said  :  'Come  along, 
Peachey.  It 's  a  big  thing  we  're  doing.'  The  mountains 
they  danced  at  night,  and  the  mountains  they  tried  to 
fall  on  Peachey's  head,  but  Dan  he  held  up  his  hand, 
and  Peachey  came  along  bent  double.  He  never  let  go 
of  Dan's  hand,  and  he  never  let  go  of  Dan's  head.  They 
gave  it  to  him  as  a  present  in  the  temple,  to  remind  him 
not  to  come  again,,  and  though  the  crown  was  pure  gold, 
and  Peachey  was  starving,  never  would  Peachey  sell  the 
same.  You  knew  Dravot,  Sir  !  You  knew  Right  Wor- 
shipful Brother  Dravot  !     Look  at  him  now  !  " 

He  fumbled  in  the  mass  of  rags  round  his  bent  waist ; 
brought  out  a  black  horsehair  bag  embroidered  with 
silver  thread  ;  and  shook  therefrom  on  to  my  table  — 
the  dried,  withered  head  of  Daniel  Dravot !  The  morn- 
ing sun  that  had  long  been  paling  the  lamps  struck  the 
red  beard  and  blind  sunken  eyes ;  struck,  too,  a  heavy 
circlet  of  gold  studded  with  raw  turquoises,  that  Came- 
han  placed  tenderly  on  the  battered  temples. 

"  You  be'old  now,"  said  Carnehan,  "  the  Emperor  in 
his  'abit  as  he  lived  —  the  King  of  Kafiristan  with  his 
crown  upon  his  head.  Poor  old  Daniel  that  was  a  mon- 
arch once  !  " 

I  shuddered,  for,  in  spite  of  defacements  manifold, 
I  recognized  the  head  of  the  man  of  Marwar  Junction. 
Carnehan  rose  to  go.  I  attempted  to  stop  him.  He 
was  not  fit  to  walk  abroad.  "  Let  me  take  away  the 
whiskey,  and  give  me  a  little  money,"  he  gasped.  "  I 
was  a  King  once.  I  '11  go  to  the  Deputy  Commissioner 
and  ask  to  set  in  the  Poorhouse  till  I  get  my  health. 
No,  thank  you,  I  can't  wait  till  you  get  a  carriage  for 


The   Man  \\'ho  Would   Be   King     391 

me.     I  've    urgent    private    affairs  —  in    the    south  —  at 
Marwar." 

He  shambled  out  of  the  office  and  departed  in  the 
direction  of  the  Deputy  Commissioner's  house.  That 
day  at  noon  I  had  occasion  to  go  down  the  Winding  hot 
Mall,  and  I  saw  a  crooked  man  crawling  along  the  white 
dust  of  the  roadside,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  quavering  dolor- 
ously after  the  fashion  of  street  singers  at  Home.  There 
was  not  a  soul  in  sight,  and  he  was  out  of  all  possible 
earshot  of  the  houses.  And  he  sang  through  his  nose, 
turning  his  head  from  right  to  left :  — 

"  The  Son  of  Man  goes  forth  to  war, 
A  golden  crown  to  gain  ; 
His  blood-red  banner  streams  afar  — 
Who  follows  in  his  train  }" 

I  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  put  the  poor  wretch  into 
tny  carriage  and  drove  him  off  to  the  nearest  missionary 
for  eventual  transfer  to  the  Asylum.  He  repeated  the 
hymn  twice  while  he  was  with  me  whom  he  did  not  in 
the  least  recognize,  and  I  left  him  singing  it  to  the  mis- 
sionary. 

Two  days  later  I  inquired  after  his  welfare  of  the 
Superintendent  of  the  Asylum. 

"  He  was  admitted  suffering  from  sun-stroke.  He  died 
early  yesterday  morning,"  said  the  Superintendent.  "  Is 
it  true  that  he  was  half  an  hour  bare-headed  in  the  sun 
at  midday?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "but  do  you  happen  to  know  if  he  had 
anything  upon  him  by  any  chance  when  he  died?" 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,"  said  the  Superintendent. 

And  there  the  matter  rests. 


XII 

HOW    GAVIN    BIRSE     PUT    IT    TO 
MAG    LOWNIE 


HOW  GAVIN    BIRSE    PUT    IT   TO 
MAG    LOWNIE 

FROM 

"y/   WINDOW  IN    THRUMS" 

By  J.   M.   BARRIE 

INTRODUCTORY 

REALISM   AS   A   LITERARY   METHOD 

THE  word  realism  has  come  to  have  two 
meanings.  Primarily  it  signified  a  study 
of  phases  of  life  which  had  come  under 
the  direct  observation  of  the  author.  The  so-called 
realists  argued  that  this  was  the  only  scientific  and 
trustworthy  method  of  presenting  life,  namely,  offer- 
ing to  the  world  only  that  which  a  man  had  seen 
with  his  own  eyes.  To  this  the  idealists  replied 
that  the  essential  things  of  life  pertained  to  the 
mind  and  heart,  which  no  man  hath  seen,  and  that 
the  imaginary  forms  of  romance  often  represent 
these  unseen  essentials  better  than  any  description 
of  exterior  customs  or  physical  surroundings. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  realism  was  used 
by  its  advocates  (perhaps  unconsciously)  merely 
as  a  literary   method.     The  ordinary   man  comes 


396  Greatest  Short  Stones 

to  believe  in  what  he  has  not  seen,  largely  by  the 
confidence  he  gains  in  recognizing  that  which  he 
knows  very  well.  Therefore  if  we  mingle  much 
that  is  commonplace  and  very  well  known  in  a 
story  with  that  which  we  wish  to  teach,  the  reader 
is  likely  to  accept  the  whole  with  avidity,  because 
he  recognizes  so  much  that  he  knows  to  be  actual 
and  true. 

One  of  the  devices  of  realism  is  dialect.  It 
gives  an  impression  of  actual  and  living  men  and 
women.  Few  readers  have  any  interest  in  dialect 
as  such,  and  it  may  easily  be  carried  to  excess,  for 
the  essential  thing  after  all  is  the  revelation  of  the 
mind  and  heart  of  man  which  the  story-writer  has 
to  make. 

Among  the  professed  realists  of  recent  times, 
none  has  been  more  successful  than  J.  M.  Barrie. 
Nothing  so  wins  upon  us  as  sympathetic  under- 
standing of  all  kinds  and  conditions  of  men,  for  it 
promotes  the  chief  principle  of  universal  religion, 
brotherly  love.  In  stories  such  as  those  we  find 
in  "A  Window  in  Thrums,"  the  actual  characters 
and  events  are  insignificant;  but  indirectly  they 
reveal  our  own  relative  lack  of  importance  to 
powers  higher  than  we  are ;  and  the  genial 
humor  and  affection  which  pervades  these  studies 
of  insignificant  lives  wins  us  to  a  kindred  love. 
Humor  is  the  saving  salt  of  sane  existence,  the 
corrective  to  the  natural  tendency  toward  depres- 
sion and  morbidity ;  and  humor  is  Barrie's  constant 
weapon. 


Gavin  Birse  and  Mag  Lownie      397 

In  a  story  like  this  of  Barrie's,  we  may  discover 
all  the  essential  principles  of  the  artistic  short  story, 
but  united  in  such  different  proportions  from  any 
we  have  met  before  that  we  see  the  possibilities  of 
the  greatest  variety,  in  a  seemingly  strictly  limited 
art.  All  art  really  gains  power  and  loses  nothing 
by  its  limitations. 

HOW    GAVIN    BIRSE    PUT    IT   TO     MAG 
LOWNIE. 

IN  a  wet  day  the  rain  gathered  in  blobs  on  the  road 
that  passed  our  garden.  Then  it  crawled  into  the 
cart-tracks  until  the  road  was  streaked  with  water. 
Lastly,  the  water  gathered  in  heavy  yellow  pools.  If 
the  on-ding  still  continued,  clods  of  earth  toppled  from 
the  garden  dyke  into  the  ditch. 

On  such  a  day,  when  even  the  dulseman  had  gone  into 
shelter,  and  the  women  scudded~by  with  their  wrappers 
over  their  heads,  came  Gavin  Birse  to  our  door.  Gavin, 
who  was  the  Glen  Quharity  post,  was  still  young,  but 
had  never  been  quite  the  same  man  since  some  amateurs 
in  the  glen  ironed  his  back  for  rheumatism.  I  thought 
he  had  called  to  have  a  crack  with  me.  He  sent  his 
compliments  up  to  the  attic,  however,  by  Leeby,  and 
would  I  come  and  be  a  witness? 

Gavin  came  up  and  explained.  He  had  taken  off  his 
scarf  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  lest  the  rain  should 
take  the  color  out  of  it.  His  boots  cheeped,  and  his 
shoulders  had  risen  to  his  ears.  He  stood  steaming  be- 
fore my  fire. 

"  If  it 's  no  ower  muckle  to  ask  ye,"  he  said,  "  I  would 
like  ye  for  a  witness." 


398  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  A  witness  !  But  for  what  do  you  need  a  witness, 
Gavin  ?  " 

"  I  want  ye,"  he  said,  "  to  come  wi'  me  to  Mag's,  and 
be  a  witness." 

Gavin  and  ]\Iag  Lownie  had  been  engaged  for  a  year  or 
more.  Mag  was  the  daughter  of  Janet  Ogihy,  who  was 
best  remembered  as  the  body  that  took  the  hill  (that  is, 
wandered  about  it)  for  twelve  hours  on  the  day  Mr. 
Dishart,  the  Auld  Licht  minister,  accepted  a  call  to  an- 
other church. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,  Gavin,"  I  asked,  "  that 
your  marriage  is  to  take  place  to-day?" 

By  the  twist  of  his  mouth  I  saw  that  he  was  only  de- 
ferring a  smile. 

"Far  frae  that,"  he  said. 

"Ah,  then,  you  have  quarrelled,  and  I  am  to  speak  up 
for  you?  " 

"  Na,  na,"  he  said,  "  I  dinna  want  ye  to  do  that  above 
all  things.  It  would  be  a  favor  if  ye  could  gie  me  a 
bad  character." 

This  beat  me,  and,  I  dare  say,  my  face  showed  it. 

"  I  'm  no  juist  what  ye  would  call  anxious  to  marry 
Mag  noo,"  said  Gavin,  without  a  tremor. 

I  told  him  to  go  on. 

"There's  a  lassie  oot  at  Craigiebuckle,"  he  explained, 
"workin'  on  the  farm  —  Jeanie  Luke  by  name.  Ye  may 
hae  seen  her?  " 

"What  of  her?  "  I  asked,  severely. 

"  Weel,"  said  Gavin,  still  unabashed,  "  I  'm  thinkin' 
noo  'at  I  would  rather  hae  her." 

Then  he  stated  his  case  more  fully. 

"Ay,  I  thocht  I  liked  Mag  oncommon  till  I  saw 
Jeanie,  an'  I  like  her  fine  yet,  but  I  prefer  the  other 
ane.     That  state  o'   matters    canna    gang  on  for    ever. 


Gavin  Birse  and  Mag  Lownie       399 

so  I  came  into  Thrums  the  day  to  settle  't  one  wy  or 
another." 

"And  how,"  I  asked,  "do  you  propose  gohig  about 
it?     It  is  a  somewhat  dehcate  business." 

"  Ou,  I  see  nae  great  difficulty  in  't.  I  '11  speir  at  Mag, 
blunt  oot,  if  she  '11  let  me  aff.  Yes,  I  '11  put  it  to  her 
plain." 

"  You  're  sure  Jeanie  would  take  you  ?  " 
"  Ay ;  oh,  there  's  nae  fear  o'  that." 
"  But  if  Mag  keeps  you  to  your  bargain?  " 
*'  Weel,  in  that  case  there  's  nae  harm  done." 
"  You  are  in  a  great  hurry,  Gavin  ?  " 
"  Ye   may  say  that ;   but  I  want  to  be  married.     The 
wifie  I  lodge  wi'  canna  last  lang,  an'  I  would  like  to  settle 
doon  in  some  place." 

"  So  you  are  on  your  way  to  Mag's  now?  " 
•'Ay,  we  '11  get  her  in  atween  twal'  and  ane." 
"  Oh,  yes ;  but  why  do  you  want  me  to  go  with  you  ?  " 
"  I  want  ye  for  a  witness.     If  she  winna  let  me   aff, 
weel  and  guid  ;  and  if  she  will,  it 's  better  to  hae  a  wit- 
ness in  case  she  should  go  back  on  her  word." 

Gavin  made  his  proposal  briskly,  and  as  coolly  as  if 
he  were  only  asking  me  to  go  fishing ;  but  I  did  not  ac- 
company him  to  Mag's.  He  left  the  house  to  look  for 
another  witness,  and  about  an  hour  afterwards  Jess  saw 
him  pass  with  Tammas  Haggart.  Tammas  cried  in 
during  the  evening  to  tell  us  how  the  mission  prospered. 
"  Mind  ye,"  said  Tammas,  a  drop  of  water  hanging  to 
the  point  of  his  nose,  "  I  disclaim  all  responsibility  in  the 
business.  I  ken  Mag  weel  for  a  thrifty,  respectable 
woman,  as  her  mither  was  afore  her,  and  so  I  said  to 
Gavin  when  he  came  to  speir  me." 

"  Ay,  mony  a  pirn  has  'Lisbeth  filled  to  me,"  said 
Hendry,  settling  down  to  a  reminiscence. 


400  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  No  to  be  ower  hard  on  Gavin,"  continued  Tammas, 
forestalling  Hendry,  "  he  took  what  I  said  in  guid  part; 
but  aye  when  I  stopped  speakin'  to  draw  breath,  he  says, 
'  The  queistion  is,  will  ye  come  wi'  me  ?  '  He  was  michty 
made  up  in  's  mind." 

"  Weel,  ye  went  wi'  him,"  suggested  Jess,  who  wanted 
to  bring  Tammas  to  the  point. 

"  Ay,"  said  the  stone-breaker,  "  but  no  in  sic  a  hurry 
as  that." 

He  worked  his  mouth  round  and  round,  to  clear  the 
course,  as  it  were,    for  a  sarcasm. 

"  Fowk  often  say,"  he  continued,  "  'at  am  quick 
beyond  the  ord'nar'  in  seeing  the  humorous  side  o' 
things." 

Here  Tammas  paused,  and  looked  at  us. 

"  So  ye  are,  Tammas,"  said  Hendry.  "  Losh,  ye 
mind  hoo  ye  saw  the  humorous  side  o'  me  wearin'  a 
pair  o'  boots  'at  wisna  marrows  !  No,  the  ane  had  a 
toe-piece  on,  an'  the  other  hadna." 

"Ye  juist  wore  them  sometimes  when  ye  was  delvin'," 
broke  in  Jess,  "  ye  have  as  guid  a  pair  o'  boots  as  ony 
in  Thrums." 

"  Ay,  but  I  had  worn  them,"  said  Hendry,  "  at  odd 
times  for  mair  than  a  year,  an'  I  had  never  seen  the 
humorous  side  o'  them.  Weel,  as  fac  as  death  (here 
he  addressed  me),  Tammas  had  juist  seen  them  twa  or 
three  times  when  he  saw  the  humorous  side  o'  them. 
Syne  I  saw  their  humorous  side,  too,  but  no  till  Tammas 
pointed  it  oot." 

"  That  was  naething,"  said  Tammas,  "  naething  ava  to 
some  things  I  've  done." 

"  But  what  aboot  Mag?  "  said  Leeby. 

"  We  wasna  that  length,  was  we  ? "  said  Tammas. 
"  Na,  we  was  speakin'  aboot  the  humorous   side.     Ay, 


Gavin   Birse  and   Mag  Lownie       401 

wait    a    wee,    I    didna  mention   the  humorous  side   for 
naething." 

He  paused  to  reflect. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  at  last,  brightening  up,  "  I  was 
sayin'  to  ye  hoo  quick  I  was  to  see  the  humorous  side  o' 
onything.  Ay,  then,  what  made  me  say  that  was  'at  in 
a  cHnk  (flash)  I  saw  the  humorous  side  o'  Gavin's 
position." 

"Man,  man,"  said  Hendry,  admiringly,  "and  what 
is't?" 

"  Oh,  it 's  this,  there  's  something  humorous  in  speirin' 
a  woman  to  let  ye  aff  so  as  ye  can  be  married  to  another 
woman." 

"  I  daursay  there  is,"  said  Hendry,  doubtfully. 

"  Did  she  let  him  aff?  "  asked  Jess,  taking  the  words 
out  of  Leeby's  mouth. 

"  I  'm  comin'  to  that,"  said  Tammas.  "  Gavin  pro- 
poses to  me  after  I  had  ha'en  my  laugh  — " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Hendry,  banging  the  table  with  his  fist, 
"it  has  a  humorous  side.     Ye  're  richt  again,  Tammas." 

"I  wish  ye  wadna  blatter  (beat)  the  table,"  said  Jess, 
and  then  Tammas  proceeded. 

"  Gavin  wanted  me  to  tak'  paper  an'  ink  an'  a  pen  wi' 
me,  to  write  the  proceedin's  doon,  but  I  said,  '  Na,  na, 
I  '11  tak'  paper,  but  no  nae  ink  nor  nae  pen,  for  there  '11 
be  ink  an'  a  pen  there.'     That  was  what  I  said." 

"  An'  did  she  let  him  aff?  "  asked  Leeby. 

"  Weel,"  said  Tammas,  "  aff  we  goes  to  Mag's  hoose, 
an'  sure  enough  Mag  was  in.  She  was  alone,  too ;  so 
Gavin,  no  to  waste  time,  juist  sat  doon  for  politeness' 
sake,  an*  syne  rises  up  again ;  an'  says  he,  '  Marget 
Lownie,  I  hae  a  solemn  question  to  speir  at  ye,  namely 
this.  Will  you,  Marget  Lownie,  let  me,  Gavin  Birse,  aff? '  " 

"  Mag  would  start  at  that?  " 
26 


402  Greatest  Short  Stories 

"  Sal,  she  was  braw  an'  cool.  I  thocht  she  maun  hae 
got  wind  o'  his  intentions  aforehand,  for  she  juist  replies, 
quiet-like,  '  Hoo  do  ye  want  aff,  Gavin? ' 

"  '  Because,'  says  he,  like  a  book,  '  my  affections  has 
undergone  a  change.' 

"  *  Ye  mean  Jean  Luke,'  says  Mag. 

"  'That  is  wha  I  mean,'  says  Gavin,  very  straitforrard." 

"But  she  didna  let  him  aff,  did  she?" 

"  Na,  she  wasna  the  kind.  Says  she,  '  I  wonder  to 
hear  ye,  Gavin,  but  am  no  goin'  to  agree  to  naething  o' 
that  sort.' 

"'Think  it  ower,'  says  Gavin. 

"  '  Na,  my  mind  's  made  up,'  said  she. 

" '  Ye  would  sune  get  anither  man,'  he  says,  earnestly. 

" '  Hoo  do  I  ken  that  ? '  she  speirs,  rale  sensibly,  I 
thocht,  for  men  's  no  sae  easy  to  get. 

"  *  Am  sure  o't,'  Gavin  says,  wi'  michty  conviction  in 
his  voice,  '  for  ye  're  bonny  to  look  at,  an'  weel  kent  for 
bein'  a  guid  body.' 

"  '  Ay,'  says  Mag,  *  I  'm  glad  ye  like  me,  Gavin,  for  ye 
have  to  tak  me.'  " 

"  That  put  a  clincher  on  him,"  interrupted  Hendry. 

"  He  was  loth  to  gie  in,"  replied  Tammas,  "  so  he 
says,  *  Ye  think  am  a  fine  character,  Marget  Lownie,  but 
ye  're  very  far  mista'en.  I  wouldna  wonder  but  what  I 
was  loosin'  my  place  some  o'  thae  days,  an'  syne  whaur 
would  ye  be  ?  —  Marget  Lownie,'  he  goes  on,  '  am 
nat'rally  lazy  an'  fond  o'  the  drink.  As  sure  as  ye  stand 
there,  am  a  reg'lar  deevil !  '  " 

"  That  was  strong  language,"  said  Hendrj',  "  but  he 
would  be  wantin'  to  fleg  (frighten)  her?" 

"  Juist  so,  but  he  didna  manage  't,  for  Mag  says,  '  We 
a'  hae  oor  faults,  Gavin,  an'  deevil  or  no  deevil,  ye  're 
the  man  for  me  1 ' 


Gavin  Birse  and   Mag  Lownie       403 

"  Gavin  thocht  a  bit,"  continued  Tammas,  "  an'  syne 
he  tries  her  on  a  new  tack.  *  Marget  Lownie,'  he  says, 
*  yer  father 's  an  auld  man  noo,  an'  he  has  naebody  but 
yersel  to  look  after  him.  I  'm  thinkin'  it  would  be  kind 
o'  cruel  o'  me  to  tak  ye  awa'  frae  him  ? '  " 

"  Mag  wouldna  be  ta'en  wi'  that ;  she  wasna  born  on 
a  Sawbath,"  said  Jess,  using  one  of  her  favorite  sayings. 

"She  wasna,"  answered  Tammas.  "Says  she,  '  Hae 
nae  fear  on  that  score,  Gavin ;  my  father  's  fine  willin' 
to  spare  me  !'" 

"  An'  that  ended  it  ? " 

"  Ay,  that  ended  it." 

"  Did  ye  tak  it  doun  in  writin'  ?  "  asked  Hendry. 

"  There  was  nae  need,"  said  Tammas,  handing  round 
his  snuff-mull.  "  No,  I  never  touched  paper.  When  I 
saw  the  thing  was  settled,  I  left  them  to  their  coortin'. 
They  're  to  tak  a  look  at  Snecky  Hobart's  auld  hoose  the 
nicht.     It 's  to  let." 


XIII 
ON    THE   STAIRS 


ON    THE    STAIRS 

FROM 

"  TALES   OF  MEAN  STREETS" 

By  ARTHUR  MORRISON 

INTRODUCTORY 

SLIGHTNESS   AND    SUGGESTION 

IN  the  study  of  Thackeray's  "A  Princess's 
Tragedy,"  we  have  already  noticed  the 
artistic  value  of  restraint,  and  the  power 
of  suggestion ;  but  in  the  case  of  Thackeray  this 
was  only  the  natural  self-repression  of  a  gentleman 
on  painful  topics.  Suggestion  as  a  literary  method 
in  short  story  writing  was  reserved  for  later  writers. 
We  saw  something  of  it  in  the  unexpressed  moral 
of  Maupassant's  "  Necklace."  In  many  of  Kip- 
ling's stories,  especially  his  very  short  ones,  such 
as  "  The  Story  of  Muhammad  Din,"  we  may  find 
still  further  development  of  the  method.  The 
editor  knows  of  no  better  example,  however, 
than  that  afforded  by  Arthur  Morrison's  "  On 
the  Stairs."  A  whole  drama  is  revealed  in  the 
most    simple    and    unpromising    realistic     details. 


4oS  Greatest  Short  Stories 

The  story  is  not  a  great  one  in  itself,  but  its 
cleverness  is  fascinating  to  the  student  of  literary 
art 

ON  THE   STAIRS  _^ 

THE  house  had  been  "  genteel."  When  trade  was 
prospering  in  the  East  End,  and  the  ship-fitter 
or  block-maker  thought  it  no  shame  to  live  in  the  parish 
where  his  workshop  lay,  such  a  master  had  lived  here. 
Now,  it  was  a  tall,  solid,  well-bricked,  ugly  house,  grimy 
and  paintless  in  the  joinery,  cracked  and  patched  in  the 
windows  :  where  the  front  door  stood  open  all  day  long ; 
and  the  womankind  sat  on  the  steps,  talking  of  sickness 
and  deaths  and  the  cost  of  things  ;  and  treacherous  holes 
lurked  in  the  carpet  of  road-soil  on  the  stairs  and  in  the 
passage.  For  when  eight  families  live  in  a  house,  nobody 
buys  a  door-mat,  and  the  street  was  one  of  those  streets 
that  are  always  muddy.  It  smelt,  too,  of  many  things, 
none  of  them  pleasant  (one  was  fried  fish)  ;  but  for  all 
that  it  was  not  a  slum. 

Three  flights  up,  a  gaunt  woman  with  bare  forearms 
stayed  on  her  way  to  listen  at  a  door  which,  opening,  let 
out  a  warm,  fetid  waft  from  a  close  sick-room.  A  bent 
and  tottering  old  woman  stood  on  the  threshold,  holding 
the  door  behind  her. 

"An'  is  'e  no  better  now,  Mrs.  Curtis?"  the  gaunt 
woman  asked,  with  a  nod  at  the  opening. 

The  old  woman  shook  her  head,  and  pulled  the  door 
closer.  Her  jaw  waggled  loosely  in  her  withered  chaps  : 
"  Nor  won't  be;  till 'e 's  gone."  Then  after  a  certain 
pause,  "  'E  's  goin',"  she  said. 

"  Don't  doctor  give  no  'ope?  " 

"  Lor'  bless  ye,  I  don't  want  to  ast  no  doctors,"  Mrs. 


On  the  Stairs  409 

Curtis  replied,  with  something  not  unlike  a  chuckle. 
"  I  've  seed  too  many  on  'em.  The  boy 's  a-goin',  fast ; 
I  can  see  that.  An'  then  "  —  she  gave  the  handle  another 
tug,  and  whispered  —  "  he  's  been  called."  She  nodded 
amain.  "  Three  seprit  knocks  at  the  bed-head  las' 
night ;  an'  I  know  what  that  means  !  " 

The  gaunt  woman  raised  her  brows,  and  nodded. 
"Ah,  well,"  she  said,  "we  all  on  us  comes  to  it  some 
day,  sooner  or  later.     An'  it 's  often  a  'appy  release." 

The  two  looked  into  space  beyond  each  other,  the 
elder  with  a  nod  and  a  croak.  Presently  the  other  pur- 
sued, "  'E  's  been  a  very  good  son,  ain't  'e?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  well  enough  son  to  me,"  responded  the  old 
woman,  a  little  peevishly  ;  "  an'  I  '11  'ave  'im  put  away 
decent,  though  there  's  on'y  the  Union  for  me  after.  I 
can  do  that,  thank  Gawd  !  "  she  added,  meditatively,  as 
chin  on  fist  she  stared  into  the  thickening  dark  over  the 
stairs. 

"  When  I  lost  my  pore  'usband,"  said  the  gaunt 
woman,  with  a  certain  brightening,  "  I  give  'im  a 
'ansome  funeral.  'E  was  a  Oddfeller,  an'  I  got  twelve 
pound.  I  'ad  a  oak  caufin  an'  a  open  'earse.  There 
was  a  kerridge  for  the  fam'ly  an'  one  for  'is  mates  — 
two  'orses  each,  an'  feathers,  an'  mutes ;  an'  it  went  the 
furthest  way  round  to  the  cimitry.  •  Wotever  'appens, 
Mrs.  Manders,'  says  the  undertaker,  '  you  '11  feel  as 
you  've  treated  'im  proper ;  nobody  can't  reproach  you 
over  that.'  An'  they  could  n't.  'E  was  a  good  'usband 
to  me,  an'  I  buried  'im  respectable." 

The  gaunt  woman  exulted.  The  old,  old  story  of 
Manders's  funeral  fell  upon  the  other  one's  ears  with  a 
freshened  interest,  and  she  mumbled  her  gums  rumi- 
nantly.  "  Bob  '11  'ave  a  'ansome  buryin',  too,"  she 
said.     "  I  can  make  it  up,  with  the  insurance  money. 


4IO  Greatest  Short  Stories 

an'  this,  an'  that.     On'y  I  dunno  about  mutes.     It 's  a 
expense," 

In  the  East  End,  when  a  woman  has  not  enough 
money  to  buy  a  thing  much  desired,  she  does  not  say 
so  in  plain  words ;  she  says  the  thing  is  an  "  expense," 
or  a  "great  expense."  It  means  the  same  thing,  but  it 
sounds  better.  Mrs.  Curtis  had  reckoned  her  resources, 
and  found  that  mutes  would  be  an  "  expense."  At  a 
cheap  funeral  mutes  cost  half-a-sovereign  and  their 
liquor.     Mrs.  Manders  said  as  much. 

"  Yus,  yus,  'arf-a-sovereign,"  the  old  woman  assented. 
Within,  the  sick  man  feebly  beat  the  floor  with  a  stick. 
"I'm  a-comin',"  she  cried  shrilly;  "yus,  'arf-a-sov- 
ereign, but  it 's  a  lot,  an'  I  don't  see  'ow  I  'm  to  do  it 
—  not  at  present."  She  reached  for  the  door-handle 
again,  but  stopped  and  added,  by  after-thought,  "  Un- 
less I  don't  'ave  no  plooms." 

"  It  'ud  be  a  pity  not  to  'ave  plooms.     I  'ad  —  " 

There  were  footsteps  on  the  stairs:  then  a  stumble 
and  a  testy  word.  Mrs.  Curtis  peered  over  into  the 
gathering  dark.  "Is  it  the  doctor,  sir?"  she  asked. 
It  was  the  doctor's  assistant ;  and  Mrs.  Manders  tramped 
up  to  the  next  landing  as  the  door  of  the  sick-room 
took  him  in. 

For  five  minutes  the  stairs  were  darker  than  ever. 
Then  the  assistant,  a  very  young  man,  came  out  again, 
followed  by  the  old  woman  with  a  candle.  Mrs.  Man- 
ders listened  in  the  upper  dark.  "  He  's  sinking  fast," 
said  the  assistant.  "  He  must  have  a  stimulant.  Dr. 
Mansell  ordered  port  wine.  Where  is  it?"  Mrs. 
Curtis  mumbled  dolorously.  "  I  tell  you  he  7nust  have 
it,"  he  averred  with  unprofessional  emphasis  (his  quali- 
fication was  only  a  month  old).  "The  man  can't  take 
solid  food,  and  his  strength  must  be  kept  up  somehow. 


On  the  Stairs  411 

Another  day  may  make  all  the  difference.  Is  it  because 
you  can't  afford  it  ?  "  "  It 's  a  expense  —  sich  a  expense, 
doctor,"  the  old  woman  pleaded.  "  An'  wot  with 
'arf-pints  o'  milk  an'  —  "  She  grew  inarticulate,  and 
mumbled  dismally. 

"  But  he  must  have  it,  Mrs.  Curtis,  if  it 's  your  last 
shilling  :  it 's  the  only  way.  If  you  mean  you  absolutely 
have  n't  the  money  —  "  and  he  paused  a  little  awkwardly. 
He  was  not  a  wealthy  young  man  —  wealthy  young  men 
do  not  devil  for  East  End  doctors  —  but  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  certain  haul  of  sixpences  at  nap  the  night 
before  ;  and,  being  inexperienced,  he  did  not  foresee  the 
career  of  persecution  whereon  he  was  entering  at  his  own 
expense  and  of  his  own  motion.  He  produced  five 
shillings  :  '''  If  you  absolutely  have  n't  the  money,  why  — 
take  this  and  get  a  bottle  — good  :  not  at  a  public-house. 
But  mind,  at  once.     He  should  have  had  it  before." 

It  would  have  interested  him,  as  a  matter  of  coinci- 
dence, to  know  that  his  principal  had  been  guilty  of  the 
selfsame  indiscretion  —  even  the  amount  was  identical 
—  on  that  landing  the  day  before.  But,  as  Mrs.  Curtis 
said  nothing  of  this,  he  floundered  down  the  stair  and 
out  into  the  wetter  mud,  pondering  whether  or  not  the 
beloved  son  of  a  Congregational  minister  might  take  full 
credit  for  a  deed  of  charity  on  the  proceeds  of  sixpenny 
nap.  But  Mrs.  Curtis  puffed  her  wrinkles,  and  shook 
her  head  sagaciously  as  she  carried  in  her  candle.  From 
the  room  came  a  clink  as  of  money  falling  into  a  teapot. 
And  Mrs.  Manders  went  about  her  business. 

The  door  was  shut,  and  the  stair  a  pit  of  blackness. 
Twice  a  lodger  passed  down,  and  up  and  down,  and  still 
it  did  not  open.  Men  and  women  walked  on  the  lower 
flights,  and  out  at  the  door,  and  in  again.  From  the 
street  a  shout  or  a  snatch  of  laughter  floated  up  the  pit. 


412  Greatest  Short  Stories 

On  the  pavement  n)otsteps  rang  crisper  and  fewer,  and 
from  the  bottom  passage  there  were  sounds  of  stagger 
and  sprawl.  A  demented  old  clock  buzzed  divers  hours 
at  random,  and  was  rebuked  every  twenty  minutes  by 
the  regular  tread  of  a  policeman  on  his  beat.  Finally, 
somebody  shut  the  street-door  with  a  great  bang,  and 
the  street  was  muffled.  A  key  turned  inside  the  door 
on  the  landing,  but  that  was  all.  A  feeble  light  shone  for 
hours  along  the  crack  below,  and  then  went  out.  The 
crazy  old  clock  went  buzzing  on,  but  nothing  left  ^that 
room  all  night.     Nothing  that  opened  the  door.  .  .  . 

When  next  the  key  turned,  it  was  to  Mrs.  Manders's 
knock,  in  the  full  morning ;  and  soon  the  two  women 
came  out  on  the  landing  together,  Mrs.  Curtis  with  a 
shapeless  clump  of  bonnet.  "  Ah,  'e  's  a  lovely  corpse," 
said  Mrs.  Manders.      "  Like  wax.     So  was  my  'usband." 

"  I  must  be  stirrin',"  croaked  the  old  woman,  "  an' 
go  about  the  insurance  an'  the  measurin'  an'  that. 
There  's  lots  to  do." 

"  Ah,  there  is.  'Oo  are  you  goin'  to  'ave,  —  Wilkins? 
I  'ad  Wilkins.  Better  than  Kedge,  /  think  :  Kedge's 
mutes  dresses  rusty,  an'  their  trousis  is  frayed.  If  you 
was  thinkin'   of  'avin'   mutes  —  " 

"  Yus,  yus,"  —  with  a  palsied  nodding,  —  "  I  'm 
a-goin'  to  'ave  mutes  :  I  can  do  it  respectable,  thank 
Gawd  !  " 

"  And  the  plooms?  " 

"Ay,  yus,  and  the  plooms  too.  They  ain't  sich  a 
great  expense,   after  all." 


THE    "WORLD'S    BEST"    SERIES 


SEVENTH    EDITION 


A    SELECTION    FROM    THE 

BEST    ENGLISH    ESSAYS 

Illustrative  of  the  History  of  English  Prose  Style,  with  Historical  and 
Critical  Introductions  by  Sherwin  Cody.  Thirty-five  Essays.  Printed 
on  thin  Bible  pnper.     iSmo,  415  pages,  $1.00  net ;  delivered,  $1.08. 

The  gcner.il  reader  will  find  in  this  volume  the  most  charming  essays 
(thirty-five  in  all,  by  ten  ditFerent  writers)  which  the  great  humorists  and 
critics  of  life  have  produced.  The  selection  is  at  the  same  time  scholarly 
and  popular,  and  eminently  readable.  The  reviewers  are  unanimous  in 
the  opinion  that  it  is  the  best  that  any  one  could  possibly  make. 

No  better  volume  could  be  imagined  for  a  class  in  rhetoric,  in  daily  or 
weekly  theme-writing,  or  in  the  artistic  elements  of  modern  English  prose 
literature. 

CONTENTS 


Preface 

General  Introduction  —  The  English 
Essay  and  English  Prose  Style : 
I.    Historical  Review 
II.    Style,  or  the    Artistic    Element   in 
Prose 
III.    The  Possibilities  of  Prose 

BACON  :  Master  of  Condensation 

Of  Studies  (version  of  1597) 

Of  Studies  (version  of  1625) 

Of  Truth 

Of  Friendship 

SAVIFT  :     The    Greatest     English 

Satirist 
A  Tale  of  a  Tub 
The  Bookseller's  Dedication  to  the  Right 

Honourable  John  Lord  Somers 
The    Epistle    Dedicatory   to    His    Royal 

Highness   Prince  Posterity 
Preface 
The    Three    Brothers    and    their    Coats 

(Sect.  II.) 
ADDISON:   First  of  the  Humorists 
Sir  Roger  DeCoverley  in  the  Country 
Sir  Roger  at  Home 
Sir  Roger  and  Will  Wimble 
Sir  Roger  at  Church 
The  Man  of  the  Town 
The  Fan  Exercise 

LAMB :  Greatest  of  the  Humorists 
Letter  to  Coleridge 
A  Dissertation  upon  Roast  Pig 
Mrs.  Battle's  Opinions  on  Whist 
Poor  Relations 


DEQUINCEY:  Inventor  of  Modem 
"  Impassioned  Prose  " 

The  English  Mail  Coach 

Sect.  I.  —  The  Glory  of  Motion 

Going  Down  with  Victory 
Sect.  II.  —  The  Vision  of  Sudden  Death 
Sect.   III.  —  Dream-Fugue:    Founded 
on  the  Preceding  Theme  of  Sudden 
Death. 
Levanna  and  Our  Ladies  of  Sorrow  (Sus- 
piria  de  Profundis) 


The     Latter-Dajr 


CARLYLE; 
Prophet 

Characteristics 

EMERSON  :  The  Lecturer 

Self-Reliance 

MACAU  LAY:  The  Rhetorician 

The  Puritans  (Essay  on  Milton) 

Boswell's  "  Life  of  Johnson  " 

The  Perfect  Historian  (Essay  on  History) 

RUSKIN  :  The  Impassioned  Critic 

Sea-Painting  (Modern  Painters,  Vol.  I.) 
The  Virtues  of  Architecture  (Stones  of 

Venice,  Vol.  11.) 
The  Crown  of  Wild  Olive  (Introduction 

or  Preface) 

MATTHEW   ARNOLD:    The   In- 
tellectual Critic 
Sweetness      and      Light     (Culture     and 
Anarchy) 


His  choice,  both  of  writers  and  their  works,  may  be  heartily  commended.— 
Boston  Transcript. 

The  book  is  just  what  its  title  promijes.  — Chicagt  Rtcord-Hera.d. 

The  oelections  of  the  authors  studied  in  this  volume  have  been  made  with  good 
discrimination  and  judgment. — IVorcestir  Spy. 


A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago 


TENTH     EDITION 

A    SELECTION    FROM    THE 

WORLD'S    GREATEST    SHORT 
STORIES 

Illustrative  of  the  History  of  Short-Story  Writing,  with  Critical  and 
Historical  Comments  by  Sherwin  Cody.  Fourteen  Stories.  Fifth 
Edition.  Printed  on  thin  Bible  paper.  i8mo,  412  pages,  $1.00  net; 
delivered,  $1.08. 

1.  The  series  of  fourteen  introductions  to  the  various  stories  constitute 
the  only  comprehensive  history  of  short-story  writing  as  an  art  ever  pub- 
lished. With  the  stories  at  hand,  these  introductions  also  briefly  point 
out  the  elementary  principles  in  the  artistic  construction  of  any  short  story, 
so  giving  the  reader  a  key  for  intelligently  reading  any  story. 

2.  The  stories  from  the  French  and  Italian  have  been  newly  translated 
into  English  that  has  something  of  the  flavor  of  the  original.  Such 
translations  are  not  to  be  found  elsewhere. 

THE    STORIES   INCLUDED   ARE: 

PATIENT   GRISELDA,  from  the  THE  GOLD-BUG,  by  Edgar  Allan 

"Decameron"  of  Boccaccio  Poe 

ALADDIN,    from    the    "  Arabian  THE  GREAT  STONE  FACE,  by 

Nights"  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 

RIP  VAN  WINKLE,   by  W^ash-  THE     NECKLACE     AND    THE 

ington  Irving  STRING,  by  Guy  de  Maupassant 

A  PASSION  IN  THE  DESERT,  THE  MAN   WHO  WOULD   BE 

by  Honore  de  Balzac  KING,  by  Rudyard  Kipling 

THE    CHRISTMAS   CAROL,   by  HOW   GAVIN    BIRSE    PUT    IT 

Charles  Dickens  TO   MAG   LOWNIE,  by  J.   M. 

A  CHILD'S  DREAM  OF  A  STAR,  Barrie 

by  Charles  Dickens  ON   THE   STAIRS,   from   "Tales 

A    PRINCESS'S     TRAGEDY,  of    Mean    Streets,"     by    Arthur 

from  "  Barry  Lyndon,"  by  W.  M.  Morrison 

Thackeray 

H.   T.    BAKV.R,  If^isltyan  Univ»rsity%  Middletown,  Conn. 

"  I   find  it  excellent  for  class-room  use,  the  selections  being  for  the  most  part 
admirably    representative.     The    short   introductions  to  the  stories  contain   many 
suggestive  and  valuable  points.     The  book  deserves  to  be  used  in   all  our  leading 
colleges." 
CHARLES    S.    PENDLETON,  Obcrlin  Cilligt,  Ohcrlin,  Ohio. 

"  The  book  was  adopted  for  use  in  my  English  Fiction  class  in  Oberlin  Col- 
lege;  also  shortly  afterwards  by  Miss  Barro'.s,  in-Short  Story  Writing.  I  have 
found  the  book  very  satisfactory.  Mr.  Cody's  introductions  are  to  my  mind 
valuable    adjuncts  to  the  collected   stories." 

A.  C.  McCLURG&  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago 


FOURTH    EDITION 


The  BEST  POEMS  and  ESSAYS 
and  THE  BEST  TALES 
OF  EDGAR   ALLAN    POE 

With  a  series  of  Critical  Introductions  and  a  new  Biographical  and  Critical 
Study  by  Sherwin  Cody,  and  photogravure  portraits  printed  on  thin 
Bible  paper.  i8mo,  Vol.  I,  480  pages;  Vol.  II,  476  pages;  each  $1.00 
net ;  delivered,  $1  .c8. 

Poe  is  America's  greatest  literary  artist,  and  Mr.  Cody  has  collected  his 
critical  analyses  of  his  art  into  a  volume  which  is  one  of  the  most  practical 
text-books  on  creative  composition  to  be  found  in  modern  literature. 

The  biographical  study  is  complete  enough  to  form  a  volume  in  itself. 
It  is  based  on  documents,  and  critics  seem  to  agree  that  it  is  as  fair, 
temperate,  and  judicious  a  study  of  Poe's  life  and  character  as  has  ever 
been  made.  Everything  of  Poe's  that  is  at  all  worth  reprinting  is  to  be 
found  in  these  two  volumes,  which  are  truly  surprising  in  the  amount  of 
matter  they  contain.  The  series  of  essay-like  introductory  studies  makes 
it  desirable  that  these  volumes  be  placed  beside  Poe's  complete  works  in 
every  librar)',  public  and  private,  and  many  will  prefer  them  to  any  of  the 
complete  editions. 

Mr.  BLISS    PERRY,  Editor  of  T*«  ^//an«K  ;i/.B«W_r,  says: 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  done  a  real  service  to  literature  by  this  classifica- 
(ion  and  arrangement  of  Poe's  work,  fortified  by  your  own  careful  and  suggestive 
analysis  of  the  methods  of  his  literary  art.     It  was  a  piece  of  work  well  worth 
loing,  and  (  think  you  have  done  it  uncommonly  well." 


"  In  the  volume  containing  what  the  editor  considers  to  be  Poe's  best  poems  and 
essays  he  has  attempted  four  things  :  to  otfer  a  new  statement  of  the  facts  concern- 
ing the  author's  life;  to  give  the  poems  which  he  believes  Poe  himself  would  have 
wished  preserved;  to  gather  from  his  ephemeral  reviews  those  detached  portions 
which  contain  his  analysis  of  literary  processes  and  preserves  for  us  the  analytic 
side  of  one  of  the  greatest  creative  literary  thinkers;  and  finally  to  detach  from 
Poe's  "  tales  "  the  so-called  celestial  stories  and  use  them  to  introduce  a  new  and 
condensed  version  of  the  great  prose  poem,  "  Eureka,"  which,  although  artistically 
imperfect,  is  superbly  grand  in  conception  and  full  of  beauties  which  the  world 
should  be  loth  to  lose." — Boitun   Transcript. 

"  Mr.  Cody  has  rendered  a  valuable  service  to  students  and  teachers  of  literature 
in  collecting  the  best  critical  essays  and  book  reviews  of  Poe  from  many  sources 
ind  placing  them  in  connection  with  his  poems.  The  volume  of  tales  shows  good 
judgment  in  the  selection  of  material,  and  contains  all  the  most  famous  of  the 
stories.  Particular  care  has  been  taken  to  restore  the  original  text,  which  has 
been  much  altered  by  previous  editors." — TTii  fVtrld  To-daj. 

"  Any  one  who  withes  to  know  the  best  of  Poe,  and  to  be  introduced  to  the 
sources  of  bis  charm,  would  have  no  better  companion  and  guide  than  these  two 
Tolumes." — Lindon  Times. 

"  One  of  the  fairest,  most  temperate,  and  judicious  biographies  of  Poe  ever 
written."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago 


FOURTH    EDITION 


A    SELECTION    FROM    THE 

GREAT    ENGLISH    POETS 

With  a  Critical  Introduction  and  an  Essay  on  the  Reading  of  English 
Poetry  by  Sherwin  Cody.  i6mo,  over  5oo  pages,  printed  on  thin 
Bible  paper,  $i.oo  net;   delivered,  $i.og. 

This  volume  does  not  conflict  with  any  existing  anthology,  and  it  is 
marked  by  all  the  distinctive  features  which  have  made  his  other  books 
so  useful  —  the  helpful  general  introduction,  the  discerning  comments  on 
the  work  of  the  great  poets,  and  the  instinctive  good  taste  and  editorial 
sense  shown  in  the  selections. 

As  to  the  point  of  view  occupied  by  the  Editor  in  making  up  the 
volume,  this  can  be  most  interestingly  presented  by  some  extracts  from  his 
Preface : 

"  This  volume  has  been  prepared  from  a  different  point  of  view  from 
that  which  governed  the  preceding  volumes  in  this  series.  To  most  of  us 
poetry  comes  to  have  a  very  personal  relation.  ...  I  have  not  been  able 
to  put  into  this  volume  by  any  means  all  the  poems  I  myself  enjoy  reading, 
and  I  know  there  are  many  others  who  will  miss  favorites.  I  have  tried, 
however,  to  give  a  reasonable  introduction  to  each  of  the  great  poets,  and 
now  and  then  a  poem  by  some  one  who  seems  to  have  more  fame  as  the 
author  of  this  poem  than  as  a  poet  in  the  poet's  full  character.    .    .    . 

"  The  introductions  to  the  principal  poets  are  more  brief  than  I  should 
have  liked,  and  are  intended  chiefly  to  give  the  beginner  the  right  point  of 
view  in  taking  up  the  study  of  a  poet  he  has  not  yet  learned  to  love. 
Great  care  has  been  taken  to  secure  a  perfect  text.  Every  line  has  been 
compared  word  by  word  with  the  best  standard  editions." 

The  Book  is  divided  into  Two  Parts 

Part  I  is  devoted  to  the  following  great  poets,  each  introduced  as  a 
personal  study  and  represented  by  the  number  of  selections  indicated 
by  the  figures  in  parentheses. 

I.  SHAKESPEARE   (56)  — as       IX.  TENNYSON  (20) 
Lyric  Poet  X.  BROWNING  (i6) 

II.  MILTON  (n)  XI.  MATTHEW  ARNOLD  (16) 

III.  BURNS  (19)  XII.  LONGFELLOW  (17) 

IV.  WORDSWORTH  {27)  XIII.  POE  (10) 

V.  COLERIDGE  (4)  XIV    WHITMAN  (19) 

VI.  BYRON  (14)  XV.  ROSSETTI     (13),     SW^IN- 

VII.  SHELLEY  (11)  •  BURNE  (6),  MORRIS  (3) 

VIII.  KEATS  (13) 

Part  11  is  devoted  to  great  poems,  representing  sixty-four  great  poets,  and 
special  favorite  poems,  v^rith  notes  and  comments  of  a  less  formal  kind. 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago 


FOURTH     EDITION 

A    SELECTION    FROM    THE 

WORLD'S    GREAT    ORATIONS 

Illustrative  of  the  History  of  Oratory  and  the  Art  of  Public  Speaking. 
Chosen  and  edited  with  a  series  of  Introductions  by  Sherwin  Cody. 
iSmo,  $1.00  net;   delivered,  $i.o8. 

The  admirable  introductions  provided  by  Mr.  Cody,  elaborating  on  the 
conditions  and  circumstances  under  which  these  famous  orations  were 
delivered,  malce  a  thorough  understanding  much  more  possible.  They 
help  to  supply  the  dramatic  setting  which  enables  the  reader  to  imagine 
himself  an  actual  auditor,  feeling  the  emotions  of  those  whom  the  orator 
is  addressing.  The  editor  has  endeavored  to  present  the  different  ways  in 
which  a  spealcer  may  sway  his  audience,  and  in  his  introductions  he  has 
suggested  the  peculiar  advantages  of  each  mode.  His  standpoint  of  con- 
sideration has  been,  however,  not  so  much  the  effect  of  eloquence  as  of  the 
great  questions  of  rhetorical  construction. 

It  is  an  invaluable  book  for  any  one  looking  forward  to  a  public  career, 
and  it  is  a  book  of  models  for  any  class  in  public  speaking  or  debating. 

CONTENTS 

DEMOSTHENES:       "On     the  Sheridan— Coniinite  J. 
Crown;'  (in  part).     Translated  by        tice"  (from  oration  on  the  Begums 
the  Editor  in  the  trial  of  Warren  Hastings) 

CICERO  :  "  I  am  a  Roman  Citizen  "  pQX  .  "  Let  us  Pause  "  (from  Speech 
(from  the  Oration  against  Verres).  ^n  Rejection  of  Bonaparte's  Over- 
Translated  by  the  Editor  tures  for  Peace) 

SAVONAROLA:  "I  Bring  You  eRSKINE:  In  the  Stockdale  Case 
Good  News  "  ;  "  The  Sea  of  Pol-        (abridged) 

itics-;    'Lazarus,  Come  Forth"  p^^^,^^     HENRY:    "Give     me 

BOSSUET:     Funeral     Oration     of        Liberty,  or  Give  me  Death  " 

Henriette   of    England    (in    part).  T^,.,,r-T      •..rc-Do-r-c-n       n      i 

Translated   by   the   Editor  DANIEL    WEBSTER:    Reply    to 
■'^         „.    ,         ,    ^  Hayne  ;      Bunker     Hill     Oration  ; 

MIRABEAU:    The    Right    of   De-        Plymouth  Oration  (selections) 

daring  War  (second  oration)  ,  ,»,^^x  »t         ^,_        r^    ^^      i. 

„^    ..      J,     .        .         .  LINCOLN:      The     Gettysburg 

CHATHAM  :   Taxing  America  Speech 

BURKE  :    On   American    Taxation  GLADSTONE  :     The    Commercial 

(abridged);     Impeachment    of        Valueof  Art  (from  Speech  on  josiah 

Warren     Hastings     (peroration)  ;        Wedgwood) 

Marie  Antoinette  (paragraph)  ingERSOLL:  Vision  of  War  and 
GRATTAN  :    Declaration    of   Insh        Vision  of  the  Future  (from  Deco- 

R'ghts  ration  Day  Oration,  1888) 

CUKRAN:   The   Press  (libel  case)  bEECHER:    Speech  at  Liverpool 
SHERIDAN:   "The   Desolation  of 

Oude  "  ;    "  Filial   Piety  "  ;    "  Jus- 

AND  OTHER  SHORTER  SELECTIONS 


A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago 


SOME    OF    THE    INSTITUTIONS    IN    WHICH 

MR.    CODY'S    BOOKS 

ARE    BEING    USED 


Cornell  College,  Mount  Vernon,  Iowa. 
University  of  Kansas,  Lawrence,  Kan. 
Bellewood  Seminary,  Anchorage,  Ky. 
Ogden  College,  Bowling  Green,  Ky. 

Southern  Normal  School,  Bowling  Green,  Ky. 
Male  High  School,  Louisville,  Ky. 
Summer  Normal  School,  New  Iberia,  La. 

Tulane  University  of  Louisiana,  New  Orleans,  La. 
Women's  College  of  Baltimore,  Baltimore,  Md. 
Boston  University,  Boston,  Mass. 

Harvard  University,  Cambridge,  Mass. 
High  School,  Chelsea,  Mass. 


Tufts  College,  Medford,  Mass. 

Holy  Cross  Academy,  Worcester,  Mass. 
Albion  College,  Albion,  Mich. 

School  of  Business,  Albion,  Mich. 

University  of  Michigan,  Ann  Arbor,  Mich. 

Central  State  Normal  School,  Mount  Pleasant,  Mich 
University  of  Minnesota,  Minneapolis,  Minn. 
University  of  Mississippi,  University,  Miss. 
St.  Mary's  College,  St.  Marys,  Kan. 

Packer  Collegiate  Institute,  Brooklyn,  N   V. 
Academy  of  Drury  College,  Springfield,  ^o. 
Ethical  Culture  School,  New  York  City. 
Liberty  College,  Liberty,  Mo. 

•  Vassar  College,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 
East  High  School,  Rochester,  N.  Y. 
Pomona  College,  Claremont,  Cal. 

University  of  Southern  California,  i-o«  Angeles,  Cal. 
Mills  College,  Mills  College,  Cal. 

Leland  Stanford  Jr.  University,  Stanford  University,  Cal. 
Queen's  University,  Kingston,  Canada. 

State  University  of  Colorado,  Boulder,  Col. 
Classical  School,  Colorado  City,  Col. 
University  of  Denver,  Denver,  Col. 

The  Hotchkiss  School,  Lakeville,  Conn. 
(See  next  page) 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago 


SOME    OF   THE   INSTITUTIONS    IN    WHICH 

MR.    CODY'S    BOOKS 

ARE    BEING    USED 


Wesleyan  University,  Middletown,  Conn. 
Atlanta  University,  Atlanta,  Ga. 

University  of  Georgia,  Athens,  Ga. 
Emery  College,  Oxford,  Ga. 

Weiser  Academy,  Weiser,  Idaho. 

Board  of  Education  (High  Schools),  Chicago,  111. 
Chicago  Kindergarten  College,  Chicago,  111. 
St.  Xavier's  Academy,  Chicago,  111. 
University  of  Chicago,  Chicago,  111. 
Monmouth  College,  Monmouth,  III. 
University  of  Illinois,  Urbana,  111. 
Wheaton  College,  Wheaton,  111. 

Indiana  University,  Blooming^on,  Ind. 
Butler  College,  Indianapolis,  Ind. 

Shortridge  High  School,  Indianapolis,  Ind. 
Earlham  College,  Richmond,  Ind. 

State  Normal  School,  Terre  Haute,  Ind. 

State  University  of  Io\va,  Iowa  City,  Iowa. 

University  of  North  Carolina,  Chapel  Hill,  N.  C. 
Guilford  College,  Guilford  College,  N.C. 
College  for  Women,  Cleveland,  O. 
Oberlin  College,  Oberlin,  O. 

Wittenberg  College,  Springfield,  O. 
Willamette  University,  Salem,  Ore. 

Allegheny  Preparatory  School,  Allegheny,  Pa. 
Miss  Baldwin's  School,  Bryn  Mawr,  Pa. 

Theological  Seminary  of  Reformed  Church,  Lancaster,  Pa. 
Franklin  and  Marshall  College,  Lancaster,  Pa. 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

University  of  Washington,  University  Sta.,  Seattle,  Wash. 
Brown  University,  Providence,  R.  I. 

Cumberland  University,  Lebanon,  Tenn. 
Austin  College,  Sherman,  Texas.  . 

Manassas  Institute,  Manassas,  Va. 

South  Side  High  School,  Milwaukee,  Wis. 
Beloit  College,  Beloit,  Wis. 
(See  preceding  page) 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago 


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